Bitter Sun Rising
by Alisa Pearce
Summary: Bad boy Jacob Black doesn't return Bella's crush, so she decides to date someone safer: a harmless nerd in her math class named Edward Cullen. Little does she know that he is secretly a powerful and ruthless gang leader enmeshed in a vicious drug war that will put her life—and all her beliefs—at risk. VOTED #3 in *TOP 10 COMPLETED FICS OF MAY 2016* AH, E/B, HEA. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Bitter Sun Rising**

 _ **NEWS:**_ _This story has been published as an original novel, **PLAY AT SOUL'S EDGE by Sophia Amador** (available free on Kindle Unlimited, or $2.99 for the ebook at **amazon dot com/dp/**_ ** _B01M3N6PW1)_** _ **.** Thanks for all your support!_

 _If you want a PDF of Bitter Sun Rising, please join our Facebook page, 'Alisa and Sophia's fanfics' at facebook dot com/groups/472680682911637/, and post a request for a copy. Or like our Facebook author page, facebook dot com/SophiaAmadorAuthor/_

 _ **Summary:** Bad boy Jacob Black doesn't return Bella's crush, so she decides to date someone safer: a harmless nerd in her math class named Edward Cullen. Little does she know that he is secretly a powerful and ruthless gang leader enmeshed in a vicious drug war that will put her life—and all her beliefs—at risk. AU, AH, E/B._

 _ **Author's Note:** Edward is a very dark character at the beginning, so be warned. However, at the end there will be a HEA for Edward and Bella. There will be no E/B cheating. _

_This is a real-world AU, so no vampires or special powers. Characters may be OOC. Rated M for language and lemons._

 _ **Life Imitates Art Department:** This is an actual news story from 2012: "Most teenagers earn minimum wage in their after-school jobs. According to police, a 17-year-old from Mason, Ohio, has been hauling in a whole lot more. A grand jury has indicted the clean-cut teen on charges that he ran a multi-million-dollar drug-dealing ring for several years during high school."_

 _ **Facebook Page:** Please join us on our Facebook page, 'Alisa and Sophia's fanfics' at facebook dot com/groups/472680682911637/_

 _ **Disclaimer:** The authors do not own Twilight by Stephenie Meyer, nor any of its characters. __All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author(s). The author(s) is/are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

 **Prologue**

Three concentric diamonds were spray-painted on the wall. It was a symbol I had come to know all too well.

I stood at the end of a long, unfamiliar corridor. I had never visited this part of the school. Half the ceiling fluorescents were dark and the rest flickered a sickly pale pink. Shattered glass glinted in the corners.

I walked toward the far end of the hall. In the wavering light, a student stood ramrod-straight before iron double doors I knew led to the basement. Long dreadlocks hung below his shoulders and brushed his muscular arms. Impeccably dressed in a sleeveless white linen tunic and perfectly pressed slacks, he glared at me as I approached.

"You can't go in there." He stepped in front of the door and blocked my entrance.

"Please," I said, "Edward told me to come." I didn't even blink at the lie. Not any more.

"What evidence do I have of that?"

I swallowed, but I had to go on. I had to find out. "You know who I am, right? Who I am to Edward?" I lifted my chin. "He wouldn't want you to go against his orders."

He eyed me for a few long moments. Then he stepped aside, face expressionless.

I slipped inside quickly before he could change his mind. Voices rose from below as I made my way down the metal stairs. I stopped short on the landing. In the dim basement below, a dozen people stood in a rough semi-circle around a girl with her head bowed so only her close-cropped dark hair was visible. On a raised platform at one end of the room, lounging in a black armchair, sat Edward.

"So, you no longer wish to be a courier for me, Alice?" Edward's voice sounded gentle. "In that case, you are no longer of any use to me." He glanced at the boy leaning against the back wall and nodded once. "Emmett."

"Too bad," Emmett mocked. He strode forward, reaching into his jacket. Alice stared defiantly up at him as he pinned her against the wall. There was a flurry of movement below and light glinted off a long blade.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** We are thrilled and honored this story was named #3 in the Top Ten Completed Fics of May 2016 at **twifanfictionrecs dot com** :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Bella_

Lunch with my friends can be a dangerous event. You never know whether you're risking your life simply by eating a peanut butter sandwich. And it's not even that I'm allergic or anything. Take that one day at the beginning of senior year. Just because I wrapped my sandwich in waxed paper that day, who would've known what it would lead to?

All because I was zoning out a little. Not too much, but just enough to annoy my friends. And when you annoy Leah, you better watch out. She's like a laser-targeted rifle with everything she does.

I was sitting at our usual table in the Forks High School courtyard, holding the waxed paper up to the sun. Heat shimmered across the courtyard, hazing the air above the long bright orange tables packed with students eating lunch. The creases in the paper made intricate, glowing patterns. I meant to pay attention to what Leah was saying, but the design was more beautiful than a kaleidoscope, a golden sun-fired tracery of a million branches, and it felt like I could see the secrets of the future if I only looked closely enough. A few crumbs fell onto my lap as I stretched the wrapping across my knuckles.

The buzzing drone of conversation swished over my ears. I took another bite of my sandwich, letting the waxed paper fall crumpled to the table.

"Hey. Hey!" Leah had grabbed fistfuls of her own hair and was rocking her head from side to side.

I blinked. "Did you say something, Leah?"

Leah snorted, and Jessica flipped her perfectly flat-ironed brown hair over her shoulder. "Don't bother! She's off in her own world as usual," Jessica said.

Leah started to repeat what she had said. But my attention was caught by a tangle of unevenly-cut black hair and I couldn't resist watching as he strode past our table, my friends' voices fading again into the background chatter. His brows were lowered in a scowl, his fists clenched. He didn't even glance toward the three of us at the table.

I watched him striding away. I couldn't _not_ stare at him. It was always that way. I had first met Jacob Black in middle school. It was five years ago, the year after my father left. That was a bad year; my mother became even more bitter and grouchy; she seemed somehow smaller. She only talked to me about money, or more precisely, the lack of it. My older brother had moved out and I had never felt so alone. One day in school some of the football players were harassing me and Jacob had—

My memory of Jacob was interrupted by a thud as Leah's binder smacked me on the head.

"Ow!" I said, rubbing my ear.

She looked even more annoyed than usual. A bad sign. It usually meant she was hatching some plot to 'improve' my life. "Don't tell me you still have that crush on Jacob Black," she said. "That delinquent isn't worth your time."

"He's not a delinquent," I protested, my gaze still following Jacob as I kneaded my scalp.

"Didn't he get suspended for fighting a couple of weeks ago?" asked Jessica.

"Suspended?" My eyes widened. "What happened?"

"Just the usual," Leah rolled her eyes. "He and that loser James Witherdale got into it right in front of the principal's office. Brilliant."

I watched him push his way through a knot of kids at the end of the courtyard. "He's cute, though, isn't he?"

Jessica frowned. "How can you say that when he's constantly getting in trouble? Just last week—"

Leah glared. "Shut up!"

"Hey, I'm on your side! Just trying to help Bella get over her stupid crush."

"Jacob's not a bad person," Leah retorted. "I know him pretty well. He's just—I was thinking it's time for Bella to find _another_ guy to like. Someone with a better reputation, who's not always getting into fights." Leah stopped to scan the lunchtime crowd. "Someone like…" She spotted a tall student with his arms full of books emerging from the crowd. "Like Edward Cullen. Senior class president, straight-A student. Now there's a guy who's not a troublemaker." She grinned at me. "And he's awfully cute too."

We scrutinized Edward as he walked across the courtyard. "Mmm," said Jessica. "Those glasses make him look like too much of a nerd. But he's got nice hair," she conceded. "Dresses well too." She got a gleam in her eye. "I bet it would feel nice to run your hands through that thick hair!"

I frowned and licked some jelly off my finger. "He _is_ good-looking," I agreed. "But I think my fingers would make his hair too sticky. And Leah, I don't know if I even want to think about anyone else. I'm too busy with my job at the bakery anyway. I don't want to get involved with anyone."

"I know what it is," said Jessica with a smirk. "You miss that bad-boy spark you see in Jacob." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Besides," I asked, "why would anyone be interested in me?" I bent over my sandwich again.

"What are you talking about?" asked Jessica in mock surprise. "You may be quiet but you've got the assets every guy wants." She cupped her own breasts, grinning.

I shook my head so my hair covered my face to hide my embarrassment. Though I had come to it late, my body had recently started to develop in ways that had drawn attention I wasn't altogether sure I wanted.

"Yeah," smirked Leah. "From what I hear, there isn't a single guy—or girl—" she eyed Jessica sidelong, "who doesn't think you're hot."

Jessica made an exaggerated "O" with her mouth. "Hot is right!" She winked at me as I concentrated on my sandwich as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. I love my friends, but the constant sexual innuendoes can get a little old.

"Anyway," said Leah. "I just think you should broaden your horizons. You've had that crush forever." She crumpled up her lunch bag. "Really, you could have anyone. I think you should give it a try. It's just dating; it's not a permanent thing. Hey, who knows? Maybe it would make Jacob jealous," she said with a grin.

"Both of you, shut up! You're not running my love life and that's final!"

* * *

 _Jacob_

Humid, stale air pressed down onto the streets around Forks High as Jacob Black walked home from school, backpack slung over his shoulder, scowling. Teachers didn't like it when you didn't get your homework done. They called it a 'bad attitude.' Even if the reason was that you had been up until 3 AM the night before keeping a new patient at the clinic hydrated throughout the night, a homeless man who had been nearly beaten to death. The man's poor health made it difficult for him to keep fluids down. Jacob had tried to explain what was going on, only to meet blank stares. Jacob had heard it far too many times: he shouldn't spend time and effort taking care of people who weren't "productive members of society."

Homework was useless anyway. When would the history of the Virginia economy in the 1700s ever be relevant to his work as a doctor? Still, the stupid grades mattered. He shifted his backpack and increased his pace. Maybe if he was super-efficient with his homework today he could get it done.

Someone shrieked up ahead. Jacob's head came up and he sprinted for the opening of the alley. Rounding the corner, he heard another, louder scream. A tall, skinny kid was staggering down the alley, tossing his scraggly dark hair back from his face. He sat on the pavement and flopped his head back and forth. Jacob thought he recognized him from school, but it was hard to tell, since there were over four thousand students at Forks High, crowded into a building meant for two thousand. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Quit being mean!" the kid whined in a voice that sounded far younger than his age. "Wha'd I ever do to you?" He stuck a thumb in his mouth and started to cry. "Kevin's sad."

"You Kevin?"

"Yes sir!" Kevin said, baring all his teeth in a childish grin. Then he tried to stand up and fell over, giggling.

Jacob's lips twisted. Kevin was high on something.

"You okay, Kevin?" The only response was more giggles as he rolled around on the ground.

"I better take you to my dad's clinic," said Jacob finally. "Let's go, man. I know a safe place."

He picked up the semi-conscious kid and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. The kid didn't resist, but lay there limply, occasionally making baby sounds or sniggering. Jacob settled him more firmly on his back and strode off. He hoped there'd be a bed available.

* * *

 _James_

The driving beat of heavy metal battered the long, low, crowded room, ramming into the gaps between shouted conversations. Figures writhed and bumped in the smoky air. James Witherdale stood in one corner, leaning casually against a wall, a can of beer in one hand, a careless half-smirk on his face. His gaze flicked from one group to another, always returning to the shadows at the end of the room where a young man lounged in an armchair on a raised platform overlooking the hall. Gloom obscured the face of the seated figure, but that didn't stop the half-nervous, half-admiring glances shot at him by many of the people in the room. Next to the armchair, a large student with dark brown hair bent close to the shadowy figure's ear, then smirked and slipped into the crowd. James straightened, noting where he had disappeared.

"Lonnie," he said in a low voice, "go check up on Emmett."

Lonnie wiped his nose, sniffed loudly, then licked the back of his hand. "Do I hafta?" he whined.

James glared at him. "Look, dipshit, you're the one begging to get in. I don't give a fuck whether you—or anyone—just get ganked. Now, you in or out, you lazy motherfucker?"

Muttering to himself, Lonnie slunk away.

James took a swig of his beer and shook his head, then spotted a pair of pale pink, long legs perched on six-inch rose-colored heels. A pert ass in a tiny pleated coral skirt waggled and twisted above the legs, and he found himself staring at the smooth skin between her thighs, wondering if that skirt would wiggle out of the way during one of her turns. He imagined himself sliding a hand inside the shimmering fabric to cup the warm flesh beneath.

She stopped dancing and James lifted his eyes to her face. She stared, brows drawn together, at the figure in the armchair at the end of the room. He was angling his head to listen closely to a woman seated on the floor beside him. She stood, revealing herself to be tall and statuesque, and extended a hand. He rose gracefully, stroking her hand delicately with long fingers. The two of them slipped out a door.

James glanced at the woman in pink. Two red spots had appeared on her cheeks. She lifted a glass of clear liquid to her lips and tossed it back, somewhat unsteadily, her frizzy blonde ponytails quivering. A few drops fell from the glass and rolled down into the many chains dangling between her full breasts.

"Hey, Kim!" James shouted, his deep voice rising over the noise of the crowd.

When Kim turned, he grinned and patted the couch beside him. She frowned and tossed her head. He tipped his head to one side and mimed lighting a pipe. She hesitated, threw one glance over her shoulder at the empty armchair at the end of the room, then shrugged and strutted over, the pleated skirt wiggling back and forth.

"What th' fuck you want, James?" she slurred, collapsing onto the couch.

"Is it so wrong to wanna spend time with a pretty girl?" He put a hand on her thigh, slipping a finger underneath her skirt.

She slapped it away. "Keep your hands off," she warned. "Where's your shit?"

Laughing, he lit the pipe and handed it to her. She closed her eyes as she took a drag, inhaling for a long time. She had big lungs for such a tiny girl.

James said, "I saw what happened. That bitch Tanya chasing after the Captain?"

"And what makes you think I give a fuck?"

He held out his hands defensively. "Hey, I just thought you might wanna make it with a guy who appreciates you. Someone who thinks you're really hot."

"Fuck that," she said, her voice hard.

He shrugged. They passed the pipe back and forth in silence for a few minutes and she slumped lower in the seat, her legs falling apart. He saw her lowered lashes were becoming damp.

He leaned into her and teased at her skirt again, fingers caressing between her thighs. This time she didn't slap his hand away but writhed slowly, eyes still closed. He placed his palm on her belly, then slid lower, and she half-arched, baring her throat, a moan escaping from her lips. He eyed those pouting rosy lips, grabbed her head and slammed their mouths together.

She tasted of Jack Daniels and smoke. There was a little metal ring on the zipper of her pink leather vest. He pulled it down, exposing more of her large, soft breasts. Her head fell back and she groaned again. Breathing heavily, he squeezed them hard. They were soft like pillows under his hands, and the contrast between his dark, calloused skin and the pale, yielding flesh under his fingers made his jeans feel far too tight.

He could smell her sweat, her perfume, and other complex scents wafting from her skin, and it excited him. He pulled her closer.

She sat up so suddenly the top of her head banged into his chin. Her eyes narrowed and grew hostile. "Fuck you, James! I'm not putting out for you!" Standing up, she zipped up her vest and glared. Then she flounced away. He couldn't help watching the rhythmic swing of that tiny pleated skirt until she disappeared in the crowd.

James flopped back onto the couch. Fucking bitch thought she was too good for him. She'd change her tune soon enough. They all would. Maybe no one knew yet what was going down, but everything was about to change at Forks High.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Thanks for reading! I will reply to all reviews, and welcome feedback, positive or negative, long or short._

 _If you have the time, I am especially grateful for brief reviews on multiple chapters. Every single review is like a small gift and is deeply appreciated. Thank you._


	3. Chapter 3

_Bella_

I found myself glancing at Edward on the other side of the classroom. Tousled hair flopped over his forehead as he concentrated on a math problem.

When he had beaten Jacob for class president, everyone had been shocked. I heard the jealous whispers. "The principal stuffed the ballot box because he didn't want someone with more suspensions than honors credits to win."

But I hadn't been surprised. Despite being quiet, Edward always seemed to be in a crowd of students. When he did speak in class, a silence followed his words, as though no one wanted to disrespect him with an interruption. I'd never seen anyone so competitive, so driven to win at any cost.

Edward and I had been competing for the top spot in honors math class ever since I could remember. Boys sometimes got upset when I outscored them in math and science, since girls weren't supposed to do that. But not Edward. He had always been outwardly polite, but…there had always been something I couldn't put my finger on. Last year, I could tell he hated it when the two of us had both been getting perfect scores all year in math class. He actually told the teacher that she needed to make the tests harder. I shook my head. Whoever heard of a student saying that to a teacher? But although I may be clueless at some things, I'm pretty good at math. When I kept up even with the more challenging tests, Edward seemed to brood.

His mood didn't change until the end of the year, when I broke my arm just before the final, and had to take a make-up final without the opportunity for extra credit. It allowed Edward to secure the top spot. I remembered his face at the end of school ceremony. He had flashed me the oddest look, a look of triumph, and, well, glee. But how could that be? No one could have predicted the strange series of events that culminated in my falling off that ladder in the gym.

As if he had become aware of my thoughts and attention on him, Edward raised his head and met my eyes across the classroom, his expression amused. I reddened and bent my head to my own work.

It was all Leah's fault. When she gets an idea in her head, she won't let go until she's pounded it into yours.

* * *

 _Alice_

Alice tugged at her sweat-soaked uniform collar as she strode through the Forks 11th Precinct bullpen to Captain Truong's office. The emergency call had come at the end of a double shift and she was exhausted. Overhead fans spun in the late afternoon sun, disturbing clouds of dust motes that winked in the humid air. They were supposed to get air conditioning for the office, but budget cuts had delayed the installation.

Alice frowned as she knocked on the captain's door, and her scowl deepened when she saw Jasper Hale sitting in one of Truong's straight-backed chairs. Even at twenty-five, Jasper could pass for a middle-school student (when he shaved off his scruffy dark beard) with his short stature and smooth face that looked like a twelve-year-old's carved out of fine oak. Grumpy as always, Jasper was one of the best martial artists she knew. If he had been called here from outside the precinct, it was going to be a rough assignment.

Truong's office was small and messy, crammed with gunmetal-gray file cabinets with drawers hanging half-open and files placed sideways on top of each drawer. Against the back wall, an ancient radiator dripped rusty liquid on to the utilitarian green linoleum.

Truong's eyes twinkled at Alice. How he managed to keep his air of sunny benevolence in a district ravaged by cutbacks and rumored corruption was one of life's enduring mysteries, but she wouldn't complain. You couldn't ask for a better boss.

"Thanks so much for coming, Alice. I know you're on overtime so I'll make this brief. I'm sure you've heard about the new drug that's flooding the streets. We have some new intel that a high school gang may be involved, so I want you two to go undercover."

Alice groaned inwardly. Not again. Just because she only stood 4 foot 10, she always got the "infiltrate the high school" assignments.

Jasper grinned. "Another canceled undercover police program revamped for modern times? Precinct 11 ain't got no creativity."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Good to see you again too, Hale."

He wagged his finger at Truong. "I'm only working with this skinny-ass bitch if you swear to me on a stack of Bibles she got rid of her cats."

Alice bristled. "What've you got against cats? They're smarter, prettier, and better with a weapon than most babyface cops I know."

Truong smiled. "Glad to see you two still have a great working relationship. You're going to need it. This is going to be a tough one. We have no choice but to go into Forks High because that seems to be the source of this shit. They call it 'rapture' or 'slip' and it's bad. Crime's up by over 70% in the affected areas; emergency rooms are overflowing." He pushed a report on his desk toward them. "Read it and weep."

Jasper folded his arms. "Guess that's why you're sending in the big boys." He shot a glance at Alice. "And, uh, cats."

* * *

 _Bella_

Edward gave me a shy smile as I left the classroom after math class and fell into step beside me. "Bella. May I ask you something?"

My shoulders tensed, but I nodded.

"I was wondering if you'd like to get together after school to study. I've been looking for a homework partner in math."

I was unable to hide the disbelief on my face. "I can't imagine how I could help you, Edward."

"I think we could learn from each other." His voice was polite, even gracious.

I could only mutter, "Maybe some other time."

He held my gaze for a moment too long and walked away. I caught myself staring at him as he left.

No. No way. It wasn't like he appealed to me the same way Jacob did.

But it might not be so bad to date someone quiet and well behaved. My brother would have approved. He had taken me aside one day before he left and wagged a finger in my face.

"Don't end up like your mother, pregnant before she got out of high school. I want you only to date polite boys, you hear?" He glared down at me, obviously trying to appear imposing and mature. He was six years old than me and I adored him, but in those days I was too busy trying to make sure he didn't know it.

I scoffed. "Charlie, I'm only eleven. I'm not planning on dating any time soon."

"You never know, with all the lowlifes around here. Even better, you should wait till you get married before you sleep with anyone."

"Sleep with—what? Charlie," I giggled, rolling my eyes, "what are you talking about?"

"If I were the one taking care of my little sister, I'd want to make sure you have a good life."

I laughed and hugged him. "How can I go wrong when I have you?"

He scowled. "Are you listening to me? What if I'm not around?"

"You'll always be around!"

He rolled his eyes. "Just be good, okay?"

"I'm always good, Charlie."

Of course, I was never good enough. Walking away from the classroom door, I blinked tears away from my eyes. I still missed him. He was the only person who'd ever really loved me. I didn't think my mother had any love left in her. She had been raised Catholic, had rebelled violently in high school and gone so far as to turn a few tricks. Her parents had kicked her out on the street. She'd gotten pregnant with my brother at 16, but then had found Jesus and become extremely religious. The harsh, fire-and-brimstone kind of religion. She'd beaten me with a strap when I wasn't obedient. My brother had shielded me from some of the worst of it, but when he left it got brutal. Luckily she was gone most of these days at religious retreats. I hadn't been allowed even to date until I turned 16. Kind of ridiculous in this day and age, but what can you do?

Plus, I didn't want to make Charlie unhappy, even if he wasn't around to see what I did anymore.

I shook my head and rushed off to my locker. It was no good being sad about Charlie. Besides, I was going to learn a new job at the bakery that afternoon. They were going to let me roll out the filo dough! I could already smell the sugar-scented air that would greet me as soon as I pushed open the front door, feel the cool, soft flour-and-butter mixture under my fingertips. Mmmm.

Leah was waiting for me at my locker. "I saw Edward speaking to you in the hallway. What did he want?"

"Nothing," I said, twirling my combination lock. No way would I give in to Leah's ridiculous plans for my love life. "He wanted to do some homework together, so I said no, because he certainly doesn't need any help, being the top student in the school."

Leah put her hands on her hips. "You said no?"

I decided the best defense was to babble. "I mean, if he wanted to learn how to cook, I know something about that, and I could show him some of the dishes I've made—"

"You idiot!" interrupted Leah. "He was asking you out, not trying to get help on his homework!"

"It's not like he asked me to a movie!"

Leah's face was stern. "Next time," she said, "you say yes, understood?"

I rolled my eyes but decided I wouldn't reject him out of hand next time if it could keep Leah off my case. What harm could it do?

Of course, it took a while until Edward asked me out again.

"Hey." He approached me at my locker, his arms full of books. He'd said more to me in the past couple of days than he had in our entire high school career. Was he up to something? Or was it Leah? "Ms. Littleton would like to start a drama club. She's asked me to be president, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in joining."

A drama club? Now that was bizarre. "What would we have to do?"

Edward stepped closer. He was much taller than me, and this close, I could see how smooth his skin was, stretched taut over high cheekbones, long and abundant lashes encircling dark golden eyes. "She just got a grant from some foundation or other, and it's not enough money to actually produce any plays, but she thought we could read a few together, and maybe attend one or two at the 3rd Avenue Theater downtown."

I knew I had to follow Leah's advice before she got even more annoyed. Next time she might arrange for something truly weird, like a date at a shooting range or something. Besides, let's face it, he was awfully hot. I usually tried not to pay attention to looks but when he stood this close I could see he was built, in a sleek, understated sort of way. He smelled good, too. And those dark eyes were what romance writers would call 'liquid-center chocolate,' simply delicious. "Sure! It sounds… very educational. Should I bake brownies or something for the meeting?"

He smiled at me and I couldn't help imagining a whole bowlful of warm, melted chocolate batter. "Awesome. And brownies would be delicious." He slid a book out of his stack and flipped it open. "I found this book of Shakespeare plays. Would you like to try a dramatic reading of Othello tomorrow after school?"

My jaw dropped. Was he asking me out to read some stuffy old play together? Not really romantic. He gave me a soulful, almost pathetic look. Could my instincts about him have been wrong? He radiated the puppy-dog innocence of a nerd, not the driven intensity of an academic competitor. I thought again of Leah's comments, of Charlie's advice. Well, why shouldn't I go out with someone quiet and safe? "Okay! That sounds like fun!"

Edward's face lit up. "Let's meet in room 325 then, right after school."


	4. Chapter 4

_Jacob_

The Black Free Clinic operated out of a ramshackle old house squeezed between two high-rise apartment buildings. Jacob struggled up the chipped cement steps. Kevin might appear skinny but he was heavier than he looked. He got him into one of the examination rooms and went to find his father.

Dr. Black examined the boy, who hadn't regained consciousness. "Looks like a narcotics overdose. I need to take a blood sample and analyze it, but I'm pretty sure I know what he's on." He frowned. "There's a new drug out on the streets. I've been seeing more cases lately. I don't know details of its chemical composition, but it appears to produce a very euphoric high. I treated a kid who said it makes you feel like everything you wish for will come true." He adjusted an IV for the boy, smoothed back his dark hair, lying in matted tufts on the pillow. "But an overdose can cause mental regression and brain damage. Childish behavior."

"Is he going to get better?" asked Jacob.

His father shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes they behave normally for a while, and then have flashbacks where they think they're children again." He placed his stethoscope back in the breast pocket of his lab coat. "The other thing we know about this drug is that it's more addictive than heroin. Apparently it only takes maybe two, three doses before you're hooked."

"Why aren't the cops doing anything?"

"I'm sure they are, but from what I hear, no one even knows where it's manufactured, or how it's being smuggled into the country."

Jacob clenched his fists. "I've got a good idea who's mixed up in it." James Witherdale. Not only was he a complete asshole, but he was definitely dealing drugs. Too bad Jacob hadn't been able to find any proof, despite following the bastard on and off for months. He was just going to have to do better.

"Son, you shouldn't get involved with this. Leave it to the police."

"Right, Dad. While more cases like this happen." Maybe he couldn't find proof of James' involvement, but the least he could do was beat the hell out of the bastard. Along with the rest of his scummy friends. That might end up being the only way he could make a difference.

* * *

 _Bella_

I was running late for lunch with my friends. I guess that was as good an excuse as any other. I zipped back and forth through the crowded school corridors, imagining I was a ping-pong ball bouncing my way around knots of chattering students. As I rounded a corner near the first-floor exit to the courtyard, I missed a bounce and crashed into someone.

I yelped as the breath was knocked out of me, my books scattered to the floor. A heavy reek of sweat poorly covered up by cologne washed over me. I coughed at the smell but managed a polite "Oh! I'm so sorry!"

The tall blond glared at me. "Watch where you're going next time, bitch!" He kicked my binder and books viciously as he stomped away. The binder crunched open on the floor, homework spraying out a trail of lined paper. My Econ textbook soared in a high, wide arc before slamming into the stainless steel statue of a headless woman with a hole in her belly, Forks High's concession to high art, then fluttered limply to the floor in three pieces.

"It was an accident, and I said I was sorry!" I shouted at his back. The textbook had been kicked so hard its binding had split. I was going to have to tape it back together. I hoped the school wouldn't charge me for it. My mother would be furious; money had been especially tight recently. I gathered up the dirty, torn remains of my homework, stuffed them back into my binder and walked more carefully into the courtyard.

It was a beautiful late fall day; the air was crisp, cool, and dry. The leaves on the oak trees in the courtyard were bright yellow edged with brown. Darker brown leaves crunched underfoot on the asphalt, filling the air with their spicy scent.

I plumped down on the metal seat next to Leah and Jessica. Leah frowned. "I saw that collision," she said. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." I brushed my hair out of my face. "But that Riley Biers is a jerk! He kicked my books even after I apologized for running into him."

Leah's face darkened. "Bella, you should watch out for him. He has a really bad reputation."

"It's not like I planned to run into him!" I protested. "It was an accident."

"You should be careful," Jessica said. "Haven't you heard? He's a member of Volterra."

"A member of what?" I asked, rooting around in my disheveled backpack for my lunch.

Leah rolled her eyes. "You really are an innocent. Don't you know about them?" She lowered her voice. "They're the biggest gang in the school. They control most of the drug sales around the neighborhood. And who knows what other crimes they're into."

"At my uncle's shop down the street," Jessica said, "he has to pay them protection money every month so the store doesn't get robbed." She bent her head closer to us, eyes gleaming with the anticipation of sharing a particularly juicy piece of gossip. "And they say that all the most important gang members have tattoos somewhere on their body, showing their rank in the organization."

"What?" I said. "Creepy."

"Yeah," Jessica continued, her eyes bright with excitement. "Watch the next time Riley opens his mouth. You'll see his gang marking on his tongue."

"Eww," I said, wrinkling my nose. "That's gross."

Leah shook her head. "Stop it, Jessica."

Undeterred, Jessica whispered, "Membership is supposed to be secret, but some of these guys like to brag about it. That's why Riley has his gang tattoo on his tongue, so he can show off." She leaned closer. "The only thing no one knows is the identity of their leader."

"Jessica, stop spreading rumors. You're scaring Bella."

Jessica shook her head. "All of this is completely true, I swear. I heard it from a girl who dated one of their members. She told me not to tell anyone on pain of death!" she whispered in a dramatic voice.

Leah rolled her eyes, but I had to admit I was fascinated.

"They call him 'the Captain,'" the blonde whispered, "and they say he's been running the gang since he was twelve years old. They say that even though he's only a high school student, he's already lost count of the number of people he's had killed." She narrowed her eyes as she imparted this bit of scandal.

"And this is a student in _our_ high school?" I shivered.

Jessica nodded. "Lots of the students in this school are members. You'd be surprised."

A thought occurred to me. "Leah," I whispered, "Jacob isn't one of…" My voice trailed off.

Leah shook her head violently. "Of course not! He wouldn't be involved in anything like that."

I sighed with relief and dug into my lunch bag. Pulling out a ham-and-cheese sandwich, I bit into it eagerly. "Oh, I'm so hungry today!"

"You're always hungry," retorted Leah.

I waved my sandwich at her, scattering bits of ham and breadcrumbs on the table. "That's not true!"

"Can you remember the last time you weren't hungry?"

I put my head on one side, considering. "Well," I said, "there was this one time Charlie took me to an all-you-can-eat buffet—"

Both girls raised their heads as someone approached from behind me. Leah dropped one eyelid at me in a brief wink. I twisted in my seat and saw Edward walking toward us, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He was dressed casually in a black cotton shirt and jeans.

"Good afternoon, Bella."

"H-hi, Edward," I stuttered. I hoped the heat in my cheeks was not obviously visible. Seeing him close by, again, I couldn't help thinking of Leah's and Jessica's persistent comments and teasing. A glimpse of his collarbones visible at the open neck of his shirt drew my attention, and I had to force myself to look away, telling myself it was rude to stare.

After a long beat gazing at me, his eyes flicked upwards to the other girls. He nodded politely. "Hello, Leah, Jessica." They ducked their heads and muttered in return. "I hope you haven't forgotten drama club this afternoon," he said to me.

"Of course not!" I said. "I'm looking forward to it!"

"See you then." He walked away, and I found myself watching his legs moving beneath the close-fitting designer jeans.

Leah waved her hand in front of my eyes, breaking my gaze. She was grinning broadly. "So you do like him after all."

I shrugged, ignoring the flush rising in my cheeks. I took another bite of my forgotten sandwich. Leah scrutinized my face. "Don't you think he's hot?" she asked.

Jessica sniffed, her nose in the air.

I smiled, looking down at my hands. "Well," I said softly, "yeah."

"And he likes you."

"We're just going to read a play together," I protested. "That doesn't mean he likes me."

Leah gave me a knowing smile. "He likes you."

After school that day, I dropped off my books in my locker and headed to room 325. It was a small, empty third-floor classroom toward the back of the school, overlooking a gas station and a row of auto body shops. I sat down at one of the desks to wait.

I heard murmuring in the hall outside and the shadows of three people fell on the pebbled glass pane. A moment later, Edward came in. The light from the windows glinted off one of the lenses of his glasses. His clothes were crisp and perfectly arrayed as always, but his hair was a little messy, part of it falling over his forehead. It was thick and glossy and I couldn't help blushing as I remembered Jessica's comments and wondered what it would be like to brush it back from his face, to run my fingers through those dark curls, to feel their warmth against my skin.

"I hope I'm not late." He touched my shoulder casually, and I felt a tingle spread from the caress of his fingers all the way down my arm and across my breasts.

I grinned. "Yes, sorry, I already ate up all the Shakespeare. It was delicious. Tasted like brownies." I patted my stomach. "See? All gone."

He laughed and sat next to me, sliding our two desks closer together. Our shoulders brushed and my heart raced. I peeked out of the corner of my eye at his profile. "Is Shakespeare as tasty as brownies?" he said, his hands paging gracefully through the book.

Maybe not, I thought to myself, but why does everything about you make me think of chocolate? His eyes were exactly the color of the brownie batter in the pan, rich and sweet and warm, and dangerously high calorie.

"There's a lot of drama around chocolate these days." I pulled a foil-wrapped package out of my backpack and unwrapped it, keeping my eyes away from his face. If I looked at him again I was going to turn altogether too red. "Stage brownies," I announced, folding back the foil. I was going to say, "Ta-da," but stopped mid-sentence at the mess in the package.

I stared at the heap of crumbs. "I fail as a drama nerd," I said, my cheeks hot. "I cut the brownies in the shapes of those smiling and frowning comedy and tragedy masks, but I guess it didn't work." Everything had gotten squished together and it was just a big mess of sweet brown crumbs.

He didn't seem to mind. "Masks are so tasty," he said, popping a morsel in his mouth. "Mmmm—chocolate roles."

I choked at his bad pun. "What a nutty act." Lame.

He smirked. "A sweet play on words." He picked up another piece and held it to my lips. Still trying to think up a reply, I opened my mouth involuntarily and my tongue brushed across his fingertips. They were sweet and smooth and warm. My face got so hot I couldn't think straight.

Why was he even showing interest in me? I was his competitor in class.

"Uh oh." His eyes focused on my lips.

"What?"

He touched a finger to my mouth, ran it slowly over my lower lip. I sat, unable to move. Without taking his eyes from mine, he held up his finger, paused, and then, very deliberately, licked it.

I couldn't help staring at his tongue as it circled his lips. "Wha—"

"You had chocolate on your mouth. I just wanted to make sure it didn't interfere with your reading your part."

I closed my eyes and swallowed, trying to get my heartbeat under control. I was not ready for this. I sucked at flirting, as my friends were always eager to inform me.

Behind my closed lids, Charlie frowned at me. "Boys only want one thing. You need to be a good girl."

My mother's voice echoed in my head. "Men don't like women who beat them in contests." I squeezed my eyes further shut. Why was it all so confusing?

Edward cleared his throat. "We should get started on Othello," he said in an altogether different tone.

I opened my eyes. He was paging through the book, his expression serious and brisk.

Of course. I must have been imagining all the innuendos. He just thought the brownies were tasty, that was it. Not flirting after all.

"You and your friends looked like you were having a fairly intense conversation at lunch." He found the page he was searching for and pressed the book open at the binding. His fingers were long and slender, tipped by the long, clean ovals of his nails. I forced myself to focus on the pages of the book.

"Huh? Oh, not really," I said. "They were just talking about gangs in our high school."

He arched one eyebrow. It drew attention to his thickly-lashed dark eyes. I shook myself. Concentrate on what he's saying, not his eyebrows for goodness' sake.

He leaned his cheek on his knuckles. "That's kind of a strange topic, isn't it?"

"I had just accidentally crashed into Riley Biers and spilled my books all over the floor, and they were warning me about him."

"Ah, the notorious Riley. I hope he didn't give you any trouble."

"Edward, do you think there are gangs here in Forks?"

He leaned back in his seat, ran a hand through his thick hair and considered me, dark eyes intent behind his glasses. "I suppose they exist in every high school."

"Do you know anyone who's a gang member? Are they really as dangerous as people say they are?"

He gave a small chuckle. "I doubt it. I think teen gangs exist as a reaction to the rules of our society." His voice was low but forceful. "Teenagers are basically powerless; we live under the control of adults, we're not allowed many of the rights most citizens take for granted—to vote, to determine where we can spend our days, where we can work, where we can go for entertainment." His voice was soft and deep and intense as velvet. "We're technically legal adults at eighteen, but we still can't enter bars; we can't even rent cars until we're twenty-five. We're essentially second-class citizens."

"I never really thought about it like that."

He gave me a reassuring smile. "I wouldn't worry about gangs here."

"But Riley—" I shuddered. "He looks like he'd be capable of anything."

Edward shrugged. "I'm not afraid of him and you shouldn't be either. I'm sure he just wants to scare everybody. It's why he puts on that tough-guy image."

"It seems there's always something scary on the news."

"Older adults are threatened by teenagers. We're young, we're stronger than them, and we're better looking." His gaze dropped briefly below my neckline before coming back to my eyes. "We're full of energy and we're in their faces." His smile was wider now. "Of course they focus on the negatives. They want to keep us afraid of each other."

"That almost sounds like you're in favor of teen gangs existing."

"Of course not—they're illegal," he replied. "But I don't think they're as bad as the press they get." He shifted in his seat. "Now, should we get to work on the reading?"

We read Desdemona's and Othello's lines for a couple of hours and I managed—mostly—to keep my mind on the play. It wasn't until Edward announced it was enough for the day that I shook myself and blinked at the time.

"I didn't realize you knew so much about Shakespeare, Edward."

He gave me a neutral glance. "I find his work intellectually stimulating."

I stifled a giggle at his comment. I couldn't tell if he was putting me on or if he was serious. "Is English your favorite subject?"

He shook his head and a lock of hair fell in his eyes. "No, I like chemistry the best."

"You do? That's my favorite subject too! I want to study biochemistry, because I think there are so many interesting discoveries that are waiting to be made about the chemical processes in the human body. I think that it's biochemistry that'll really help people live longer and healthier lives." Oops. I was babbling again, just like Leah and Jessica kept warning me.

But Edward didn't appear to mind. "Oh, I agree. Besides, pharmaceuticals are the wave of the future. There's plenty of money to be made in that arena." He rested his chin on his hand. "I don't plan to be poor all my life, like most of the kids around here." He zipped up his backpack and glanced at his cell phone. "I'm sorry—I need to get to my internship."

"You're an intern?"

"I've got a part-time job as a lab assistant at a local company. Nothing special. But it helps my family pay the bills."

After he left, I sat for a moment in the empty classroom as it got slowly darker outside. He was definitely flirting. But why did he stop? Was it because I didn't know how to flirt back?

I heard my mother's voice again. "Don't get a swelled head, a plain girl like you." I wrinkled my nose. The last time I went on a date with someone my friends suggested it didn't turn out well.

Forget it. I wasn't interested.


	5. Chapter 5

_Edward_

Volturi Pharmaceuticals was a closely-held, family-owned company. That meant that Dr. Aro Volturi had a piece of paper in his office file cabinet saying he was the 100% owner of all the shares of stock (two) the company had ever issued. It was housed in a dilapidated whitewashed building at the edge of town near the bypass. But the security system was modern and effective.

Edward waited patiently for his badge to be scanned and to be admitted to the premises. When the opening for the internship had first been posted, Edward had gone all out to get the job. It was an opportunity rarely offered to students from their neighborhood. Forks High had a decades-long rep as "low-performing," and companies usually didn't want to waste time and resources on the illiterate delinquents they imagined filled the school.

But when he actually arrived to start his internship, nothing turned out the way he hoped. He had been called into his boss's office and told his ideas were "too far out," and that he would do better to focus on not doing his job too fast and making everyone else look bad.

It didn't matter. The company had turned out to serve other purposes for him.

Edward carefully adjusted his heavy black glasses as he was scanned by the high resolution camera over the door. He didn't need glasses, but they helped solidify his image as a nonthreatening, bookish nerd as well as serving as a constant reminder to stay in character. He smoothed his expression into blandness, tinged with just a hint of puppy-dog eagerness, and waited for the door to click open.

Inside, the lab was hushed and permeated by the smell of acetone and sulfuric acid. Edward rounded a corner and heard a racket in one of the side corridors. One of the other student interns, the chief scientist's diminutive nephew, was waving a broom around wildly. Alec was supposed to be sweeping the office, but there were untouched piles of dust and rubbish in every corner.

The boy lifted the broom and banged it against the wall like he was beating a drum set. "Here's the quadruple platinum rapper Alex Big dropping another shit-rattling mixtape."

Alec's equally tiny sister, Jane, walked in, shook her dark pigtails and frowned. "Alec, Uncle Marcus will get mad that you're not sweeping up."

Alec had been hired as a lab assistant by his uncle, the chief scientist and good friend of the CEO. However, after several accidents and a pile of broken glassware, Aro had demoted him to errand boy and janitor.

"I'm too important to sweep." He struck a pose, tipping a pair of mirrored sunglasses down onto his nose. "C-c-c-cause I'm the king of bling, we might just get hit with a RICO or anything..."

Jane snorted. "Don't quit your day job. You don't even scan."

Alec pouted. "Aw, you're just not cool." He spotted Edward at the end of the corridor and yelled, "Hey, Edward, what do you think?"

Edward fixed a polite smile on his face. "Well, I think rap serves an important societal purpose—"

Alec interrupted him, disgusted. "Societal purpose? Who ya kidding? You don't have an ounce of cool in your body, man."

Edward shrugged.

Alec ran down the hall, making air raid siren noises and shouting, "Nerd alert! Nerd alert!"

Behind him, Jane rolled her eyes. Edward kept the smile, now slightly stiff, steady on his face. He didn't want to lose this job. His life depended on it.

* * *

 _Bella_

Leah was waiting at my locker the next morning when I got to school. "So, how'd it go?"

I pulled out my physics book, watching the sun flash across the glossy binding. "How'd what go?"

"Your date! With Edward!"

"I don't know if you'd call it a _date_ , exactly. We read a play together." I rummaged in my locker for a pencil with a point that wasn't completely broken off.

Leah put her arm on the wall right in front of my nose. "What did you talk about?"

I scratched my face thoughtfully. "We read a lot of cool lines from Othello. Did you know that many of our everyday expressions come from that play? Like 'wearing your heart on your sleeve'? And then there's 'foregone conclusion'—Ow!" I broke off and rubbed my side where Leah had poked me hard in the ribs.

"No, you idiot, I mean what did you _talk_ about. You can't just have nerded on about some play for the whole time—not even _you_ would do that."

I glared at her, still rubbing my ribs. "We met to do a dramatic reading. That was the whole point of getting together."

"You didn't talk about anything personal?" Leah crossed her arms.

"Not really." I slammed my locker shut. "We did talk a little about a few other things." I was not going to mention either brownies or flirting. "You know, he has some really … unusual ideas."

"About what?"

"He had all these weird philosophical ideas about why gangs existed, and teenagers' position in society, stuff like that." I shook my head. "Not what I would have expected from him."

"That's all? He didn't say anything about getting together again with you?"

"Oh—yeah." I frowned. "He texted me this morning. He wants to take me out to the Fall Festival Fair next Saturday."

"What? No way! Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"Well, I haven't texted him back. I'm still not sure if I want to date anyone."

Leah shook her head. "You are hopeless!"

The bell rang and I headed off to class. It rained all morning, and by the time lunch period rolled around my hair was frizzy and I was starving. It was too wet to eat outside, so everyone was crammed into the hot, damp, and smelly school cafeteria. People were grouchy and every now and then a louder complaint made itself heard above the hubbub.

"Uh oh," said Leah, pausing in the act of forking up a bite of lasagna. "I hope James and Jacob don't get into it here."

I dumped my books on the table. At the far end of the cafeteria, Jacob was facing off with a tall, brawny student.

"That would make Jacob's third fight in a month. He'll get suspended again for sure."

"Who's the other guy?" I squinted. They were too far away for me to see clearly. I was a little nearsighted, but my mother said we couldn't afford glasses. I'd gotten a pair last year through a free program, but I had stupidly lost them and wouldn't be eligible for another until next year.

"James Witherdale. He and Jacob seem to have it in for each other. They're constantly looking for excuses to fight. One of them whips the other's ass, so then the other has to prove he's better." She shook her head. "Boys."

I winced. "I hope Jacob doesn't get hurt."

Leah snorted. "Don't worry. He's used to it."

As I was handing over my lunch ticket in payment for my food, Edward came up behind me.

"May I carry your tray, Bella?" he asked politely.

I almost dropped the tray. No one had ever done that for me before. "Sure!"

Edward moved in quickly and managed to catch it before it fell from my hands. Milk slopped over the rim of my glass. "Sorry!" I said.

"There's no problem," Edward said. He picked up an extra napkin from the dispenser and mopped up the spilled milk. "Where are you sitting?" His eyes roamed over the lunchtime crowd before spotting Leah and Jessica having an animated discussion.

I said, flustered, "Don't you usually sit with your friends?"

"They can forego the pleasure of my company this once," Edward replied with an indifferent glance in the direction of his friends. He held both trays with one hand and lightly steered my elbow with the other. I felt a tingling jolt where his fingers touched my skin. His hand was warm, smooth and firm. "Besides, I wanted to know if you got my text."

"I'm sorry. The bell rang before I could answer." What a great excuse. Now I was sure he thought I was an idiot.

"All you have to do is say yes now," he murmured in my ear. His breath tickled my skin. He tightened his hand on my arm. "Say yes."

Several girls at a nearby table were gaping at us and whispering. I wondered if they thought he was hot. Leah would never let me live it down if I said no. "Y-yes," I squeaked.

He released me and a brilliant smile spread over his face. His eyes crinkled and I felt like I did when the bakery oven opened and the rich sweet smell of chocolate cheesecake poured out.

Jessica was staring at us with her mouth open. Then she jerked in her seat and glared at Leah, who frowned back. They began talking energetically with each other.

I hid a smile. Leah must have stomped on Jessica's foot to get her to stop staring. I had often been on the receiving end of Leah's not so subtle directions at the lunch table.

"What's up, ladies?" Edward asked as we approached.

Leah made a welcoming gesture at the empty seats. "Be my guest, Edward."

He settled himself at the table, smoothly sliding both trays onto the plastic surface while steadying my arm.

Leah grinned. "So how was the drama club meeting?"

"With someone as talented as Bella on the team, I'm sure we'll do well this year."

I blushed and took a bite of meat. I chewed it thoughtfully, for a moment distracted from the conversation as I tried to figure out what kind of meat it was. Could it be buffalo? I had been hearing that was becoming a more common source of protein in some areas. I imagined what life must have been like when herds of buffalo roamed the plains, so numerous that they were the main source of meat for humans living in the area.

A hard jab in the shins brought me back to the lunch table. Leah was glaring at me.

"Yes?" I hazarded, giving the bright smile I often used with success to cover such moments of inattention.

"I was asking what you thought of the other club members."

I avoided glancing at Edward. "Actually, it seems Edward and I are the only members."

"What?" asked Jessica in disbelief. "How can it be a club with only two members?" She snorted. "Sounds more like a date to me."

Edward chuckled. "There weren't that many people interested in the first place, and then Bella and I were the only ones who passed the entrance exam."

"A drama club with an entrance exam?" asked Leah. "That's weird."

The commotion on the other side of the room got louder. The fight between James and Jacob, averted earlier, appeared to have re-started.

James knocked Jacob to the floor and said something with a sneer on his face. Jacob, his face red, leaped up and decked James. I stopped eating, my eyes on the fight. Edward continued to eat his lunch, ignoring the two brawlers.

"Edward, you don't seem to be interested in this fight," said Jessica.

He shrugged. "Displays of brute force don't interest me."

I blushed and looked away from the fight. Jacob and James were kind of brutish, punching each other that way. I snuck a glance at one of Edward's long, slender hands, and couldn't imagine it balled into a fist. No, a hand like that was made for something else, something far more graceful. I could imagine him playing the piano, running his fingers over a stringed instrument… or a woman's skin. I imagined those hands stroking my cheeks, sliding down to caress my throat, fingers resting gently on my pulse point. I swallowed, eyes closing, and those long, delicate fingers slipped around my throat, pressing me against the wall. I gasped and met his dark eyes inches from mine, something unspeakable in their depths. His hands tightened around my throat. I tried to pull his fingers away, but they were so strong. It became hard to breathe. His eyes bored into mine, his expression suddenly full of regret and sadness. My vision started to darken…

I shook myself and forced myself to focus on the lunch table in front of me. Another one of my moments of distraction, but a chilling one this time. It wasn't unusual that I would have little flights of fancy in the middle of the day, but why would I have such a disturbing fantasy sequence about a harmless nerd like Edward? I really needed to learn to focus better.

Edward was still talking. "Deadly force is far more effective when used subtly and with finesse."

I blinked and the other girls nodded.

What had just happened?


	6. Chapter 6

_Bella_

The doorbell rang as I was finishing getting dressed for my night out. Thank goodness my mother was still at her retreat. Although she had finally allowed me to date, if she had been here, I wouldn't have been able to leave the house without being treated to a full hour of insults about my appearance and behavior. I smoothed my floral skirt over tan thigh-highs, and topped my black silk blouse (what a find at Goodwill!) with a red sweater since it was nippy out. Plus the sweater hid the small mended patch under one shoulder. I opened the door to see Edward, all in black, holding a bouquet of deep red roses. He leaned against the wall, eyes half-lidded.

"Good evening, Bella." His gaze traveled up and down my body. A slow smile curled his lips. "You look beautiful."

"Hi!" I said, blushing and trying to cover it up by acting cheerful. "Oh my God, they're beautiful! Thanks!" I took the flowers and breathed in deeply. "Mmm, they smell wonderful! I love flowers, but no one has ever given me roses before. Thank you so much!" Edward seemed pleased. "Please come on in."

He gazed around my small living room with apparent interest as I bustled around the kitchen, putting the flowers in a vase of water. I couldn't help but imagine how an outsider would see our apartment: beige walls with water stains from the leak upstairs, dingy curtains over the small windows, mismatched, second-hand furniture, vinyl-upholstered armchair patched with duct tape. My mother didn't care much about decorating, although I tried to keep everything as clean as I could.

"Who else lives here?" I was surprised to see him so close, leaning on my kitchen counter.

"My mother," I said. "She's at a religious retreat right now. My dad left a few years ago. My brother used to live with us until he ran away." I tried to sound quelling, not wanting to talk about my family.

Edward's voice was gentle. "I'm so sorry." He reached out to touch one of the roses, tapping the tip of the flower stalk. "Ah. My apologies are needed here as well." He cupped a hand around one of the petals.

"What is it?"

He tilted his hand to show me a spider crawling on his palm. "I didn't see him there. Please forgive me for bringing unwanted visitors into your home."

"It doesn't matter—" I began, but Edward was already returning to the living room. He unlatched the window and laid the back of his hand flat against the sill. The spider stopped crawling for a moment, and then scurried off his palm and onto the outer sill. Edward waited until it had vanished into the darkness, then quietly closed and latched the window.

"There. All taken care of."

"Thanks! That was nice of you not to kill it." Wow. He wouldn't even kill a spider? I'd never known a guy like that. Even Charlie swatted any bugs that got in our house.

He shrugged. "Is that your brother over there?" Charlie' photos were arranged on a side table.

My nails bit into my palms. I really didn't want to bring Charlie into the conversation. The more I thought about him, the more I would hear his voice warning me. He collected stupid old-fashioned sayings, maybe from the old ladies at church. "A date, huh? Remember, they won't buy the cow if they get the milk for free."

"Yes," I said. Edward squatted in front of Charlie's photos. I followed him reluctantly. I hadn't ever had a male visitor inside the apartment. But surely Charlie would have approved of someone like Edward.

"He looks like you."

I followed his gaze to the picture. That wasn't usually what people said. "His hair is a different color."

Edward straightened. "No. I mean that his eyes are kind, like yours."

I ducked my head so my hair fell over my face. "He was very kind, very good to me," I muttered.

Edward must have noticed my discomfort. "Come," he said, holding out his hand. "Let's go."

We walked downstairs together. A tiny, bright yellow car was parked at the curb. Edward bent to open the passenger side door for me.

I hung back. We were going to ride around in that tiny thing? "What kind of a car is that?" I asked, and then bit my lip. It sounded like a stupid question.

Edward didn't appear offended. "It's a Lotus Elan." He must have noticed I was confused, for he added, "It's a sports car—very fast and fun to drive."

I had to squat in order to slide into the low-slung seat. Edward closed the door with a soft click. It didn't even sound like a regular car door. The seats were upholstered in supple tan leather. I ran my hand over them—luxuriously soft. There was a faint smell of gasoline inside the car.

Edward got in the driver's side and started the engine. The smell of gasoline intensified, and the engine reverberated loudly.

"Wow," I said, "aren't sports cars expensive?" I had thought Edward was poor like me, and I had recognized the free and reduced lunch program ticket he used in the cafeteria.

"Not this one. It's a 1969 model that I bought for nothing at a junkyard auction. A friend of mine restored it for me." He ran his fingers lovingly over the polished wood dashboard.

He put the car in gear and roared away from the curb.

I had never ridden with someone who drove like Edward. He wove in and out of traffic at high speed, accelerating and decelerating rapidly. Compounded with the fact that I felt like I was sitting about two inches above the road and that the car seemed to register every bump we ran over, I ended up squeezing the handgrip so hard my knuckles went white.

Edward seemed amused. "What's wrong?" he asked as he nearly sideswiped a Honda and then slipped into a miniscule gap between a BMW and a beat-up SUV.

I gulped at the SUV towering over us. "Nothing," I said.

He chuckled. "I don't like other cars getting in my way." He accelerated and pulled into another lane to overtake the SUV, then darted back into our original lane and accelerated through a yellow light.

"Don't you get a lot of tickets?" I expected to see flashing lights behind us at any moment.

"No." He shifted gears smoothly and we shot forward. "I have a radar detector and naturally fast reflexes."

"It feels like the wheels are… barefoot on the road."

"That's an eloquent description. The spring rate on the suspension is rather heavy, which makes the car very responsive, but not as cushy a ride." He spun the wheel abruptly to get around a slow-moving Volvo. "If I can do something like that, I don't mind feeling a few extra bumps."

I clutched the handle more tightly.

He put one hand on my arm and leaned toward me. "Trust me. I'll get you there safely."

He ran a red light and raced another car to an open slot in the other lane, cutting it off. The other driver honked furiously. I stared fixedly out the front windshield. He chuckled again.

"I can tone it down for you if you want." His voice held just a hint of mockery.

"No," I said, despite feeling that all my muscles had turned to jelly. "I'm fine."

"Good," he said, accelerating once again and continuing to weave in and out of traffic. I didn't want to check the speedometer, but couldn't resist a peek. We were on one of the city streets leading out of town. The little needle on the speedometer was creeping towards 85. Abruptly, Edward decelerated as a car ahead of us pulled into our lane. I was thrown forward into the seat belt.

It felt like an amusement park ride with all the accelerations, maybe a combination between bumper cars and a roller coaster. The image made me smile. Another driver honked at us. "I think you're making the other drivers angry."

"We'll be out of their way soon enough," he said in an even voice. He downshifted and turned onto the road leading to the mall just outside of town.

There was less traffic here, and although his speed did not slacken, the wild accelerations and decelerations slowed, giving me a chance to catch my breath. Despite my fear of imminent death, I felt a secret, shameful thrill. We were breaking all the rules and getting away with it. My bones felt like they had melted, my lungs expanding with fast, hot breaths, my skin bathed in sparks.

I glanced at Edward out of the corner of my eye. Everyone in school seemed to think of him as nothing other than a quiet, gentle nerd. His profile was serene, dark eyes flicking over the road, one hand resting on the wheel, the other wrapped around the stick shift. There was something much more than the harmless nerd inside him. And why was I so drawn to him?

Well, besides that he was hotter than anyone on the planet. Maybe that was enough.

* * *

 _Alice_

Alice pored over the stack of reports as Jasper cleaned his pistol. He rubbed a silk cloth over the firing pin as Alice scribbled another note on a beat-up yellow pad.

"You still studying for your homework assignment?"

"Shut up," Alice said without heat, making another notation. "You know we'll have to memorize all this background before we go in—it'll be too dangerous to keep notes around."

"I've already memorized my part. Have you looked at the list of sites where they've made slip arrests?"

A line appeared in the middle of Alice's forehead. She pulled out a diagram from the middle of the yellow pad. "They keep moving them around, of course, but I plotted everything we've got on a map of the city to see if they clustered anywhere. Here."

Jasper bent over the map and whistled. "Good work. I didn't see that pattern. That would suggest maybe we want to focus our search on the east side."

Alice shrugged. "Maybe." She tossed a report over to his side of the desk. "Did you see the latest mortality figures from Donald Hospital?"

Jasper glanced at the numbers. "Shit. It's getting worse. A lot worse."


	7. Chapter 7

_Bella_

The carnival had transformed the vacant lot in back of the mall into a conglomeration of lights, sounds and smells. Straw had been scattered over the ground and its warm, earthy scent reminded me of a long-ago field trip to a farm just outside of town. People were laughing and shouting, and off-key carnival music was blaring from tinny speakers at multiple locations. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy hung in the night air.

I always loved the sensory overload of places like this. Edward took one of my hands in his, his grip warm. I had never held hands with anyone in public before. How could such a simple touch make my body feel like it was buzzing, like my skin was sparking all over like the lights flashing on the carnival machines?

I could imagine Charlie walking beside me, frowning. "Didn't I tell you to be good?"

"It's just holding hands," I protested.

Edward's hold was comforting and secure. Charlie looked away. "I suppose he seems like a gentleman," he said grudgingly.

We walked along a row of game booths, where chattering groups threw balls at small targets, tried to drop objects in arrays of glasses, or tossed hoops over stuffed animals. I loved watching others play the games. As I stopped for the third time at one of the booths to watch a brash teenager aiming an air rifle to try to win a huge stuffed animal for his girlfriend, Edward nudged me.

"Do you want one of those?"

I wasn't used to having money to play these games, and I assumed Edward didn't have much either. "I just like to watch."

"I have plenty of money tonight," he said. "I'd like to treat you to whatever you want." He gave me a winning smile.

"All right!" I said. "Just try once."

At the counter, the middle-aged, paunchy operator grinned. "Step right up and try your luck! Five dollars for three shots; knock down three targets and you get the choice of our top prizes." He pointed at the row of huge stuffed dogs along the back of the booth.

Edward handed over five dollars. The small disks you had to knock out of the way were battered and a couple of them were bent to the side. They were probably harder to knock down than they looked.

Edward sighted along the air rifle mounted on the counter and squeezed the trigger without taking much time to aim. The shot struck the center of one of the targets with a loud clang, knocking it backward violently.

The paunchy man raised his eyebrows briefly and bellowed, "Great shot. Congratulations. Can you do as well the second time?"

Edward ignored him as he fired off another shot and in short order a second target was down. The man congratulated him again, and Edward leaned into my ear and whispered, "Watch what he's doing with his left hand."

The man was pulling at something underneath the counter. Edward murmured in my ear again, "There's a little device under there that locks all the targets and keeps them from being knocked over." He pointed with his chin at the row of targets, and indeed, they were no longer quivering in the breeze.

"What—" I whispered, "those crooks!"

Edward's eyes narrowed and a feline grin appeared on his face. "Go over to the other side and ask him if that large blue dog is one of the prizes."

I followed his gaze. The stuffed toy in question was at the very end of the row. Puzzled, I obeyed. "Mister?" I asked, stretching over the counter. "Is that one of the prizes we can get?"

"Eh, little lady?" he asked. "You betcha. Any of them, you could bring home tonight." His eyes strayed to my neckline.

I heard a loud clang. Edward had taken the third shot, knocking down yet another target. The man's eyes narrowed. Edward was sporting a triumphant smile.

"Congratulations, young man. You're our first winner of the night," the man said with a tight smile. "What prize would you like?"

"The young lady will choose," Edward replied.

I hesitated, and then indicated the large blue dog I had been pointing at earlier.

The man untied it and handed it to me with more jolly words spoken from a taut mouth. Edward thanked the man in a gracious tone.

He was chuckling as we left the booth.

"What did you do there?" I asked, balancing the giant stuffed animal.

"I just evened the odds a bit."

"But how?"

"While you distracted him, I took out my knife and cut the cord that held the targets in place." He glanced at me, an amused, superior half-smile on his lips. "That made the game fair again." He stopped, his eye caught by something or someone on the other side of the field, and his face stilled and became serious. He lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

"My dear, there's someone I have to see for a moment. Do you mind waiting for me?" He scanned the nearby booths. A red banner flapped above a gray tent. The banner stretched in the wind, and I read the heavily curlicued letters: "Fortune Telling."

"How would you like to know your future?" he asked.

Inside, the tent was dimly lit and the air chokingly warm and heavy with incense. Edward steered me to where a gray-haired woman sat behind a small table. He laid a twenty dollar bill on the table.

The old woman picked up the money. "That'll be ten dollars, young man."

"Keep the change. Just give her a good fortune." To me, he said, "I'll be back in less than fifteen minutes." He scooped up the large stuffed dog. "And I'll take this back to the car so you don't have to carry it around." Then he was gone, the tent flap stirring behind him on a quick flurry of cool air.

The woman at the table murmured, "Please go right in, miss." She gestured at a dark red curtain at the rear of the tent. "Madame will see you now."

I pushed the fabric aside. This part of the tent was even gloomier and more heavily fragranced than the waiting area. A woman sat at the far end of the room behind a table draped in black cloth. Unevenly cut black hair framed her face and a white bandanna wrapped around her head. A crystal ball rested on a small stand on the table, a single straight-backed chair before it.

"Come in, come in, don't just stand there."

The woman was younger than I expected, dark, shrewd eyes narrowed. She took a pipe out of her mouth and placed it on a stand at her left. "So you've come for your fortune, eh?" She grinned briefly, exposing stained teeth. "What would you like to know? No, don't tell me. You want to know about love, all the young girls do." She leaned forward, and I saw that her right arm was cut off just below the shoulder, the stump wrapped with dark bandages. With her left hand she rapidly flicked a number of cards painted with elaborate drawings back and forth and laid them out on the table.

Then she stopped and her eyes widened. She barked, "Give me your hand!"

"What?" I rubbed sweating palms on my thighs.

"Your hand, girl, so I can read your palm," the woman snapped.

She bent over my hand, muttering to herself. "Well. I don't see this too often." She stroked one line on my palm with a dark, calloused finger and cackled. "You are one of the fortunate few who will meet your soul mate in this lifetime. In fact—" She drew my hand closer to her beaky nose. "You have already met him." She leered. "Did you come in with your boyfriend? I see you and your soul mate married, with not one or two but four children in your future."

My mouth fell open. Somehow I couldn't imagine Edward as a father. The woman scrutinized my palm again. "But wait—I see dark times ahead for you and your young man. Over the next year, very dark times—and again, about another decade in the future. A dark shadow crosses your path, and it will be the same one both times." She frowned at my palm, sounding reluctant. "Your life will be in danger."

Her eyes had dilated in the murky light. Her face seemed marked by fear, her earlier bravado gone. "I don't give this warning very often, but I must ask you to be extremely cautious. The shadow stands very close to you now."

I marveled at the quality of the woman's act. She was really terrifying. "What should I do?"

"Your boyfriend," the woman whispered, "must stay away from the shadow, the temptation of the mask. The shadow has two faces, and both are deadly." Her eyes bored into me. "He holds his hand out to you now, but it will all be up to you; you are the one who must be strong…"

I pushed back my chair, breaking out into a cold sweat at the utter belief in her words.

There was a noise in the outer room and I heard voices. Cool air brushed me as the curtain was drawn back. The woman's eyes lifted to meet the visitor. She blanched even more than before, her eyes dilating in terror. "No," she whispered. "It has him…"

Edward walked into the room, smiling. "Did you have an interesting visit, Bella?" he asked. "Did you predict a wonderful future for the two of us, madam?"

The woman's mouth seemed stuck for a moment. "Yes, yes," she croaked. "An excellent future. Good evening." She turned her back to us.

Edward held out his hand. "Come. Let's go." He seemed very pleased with something.

"Did you see your friend?" I asked as we passed through the tent flap.

"Yes. And how was your fortune?"

I shivered. "It was a bit… strange," I admitted. "Kind of scary, actually. At first it sounded normal, all this stuff about soul mates, but then she got a little weird, telling me my life was in danger."

Edward snorted. "The usual twaddle. Beware the dark stranger, isn't that usually it?"

"Not quite," I said. "She told me—and you— to beware a shadow."

Edward laughed. "Sounds ridiculous. I guess clichés are what you'd expect from charlatans. Well, I hope it was entertaining at least."

"Oh, it was, I guess." I shuddered again. "She just sounded—so convincing."


	8. Chapter 8

_Jasper_

Jasper tossed his third empty coffee cup on the floor of the squad car, watching through the tinted windshield as Lonnie exchanged rubber-banded baggies for crumpled-up cash on the corner across from the Fair. He donned his oversized mirrored shades. When he shaved off his beard and dyed his hair seasoned detectives had been unable to pick him out of a lineup, but since he was about to go undercover it paid to be careful.

When the boy was looking away, Jasper jumped out. Lonnie saw him coming and took off, but he was out of luck that night. Before he got half a block he tripped over an uneven patch of cement, and Jasper was on him, heavy black boot pinning his skull to the sidewalk.

Jasper wrestled Lonnie's skinny arms behind him and tightened the pair of handcuffs. "You are going down, punk. I got enough evidence to lock you up for years."

"I ain't done nothing," Lonnie whined. "I'm innocent! Police brutality! Folks got video cameras on you, man."

Jasper laughed. "Bring on the video cameras. What're they gonna see? A decorated officer pulling scum off the streets, legally and without too much violence." He yanked on Lonnie's wrists. "Although, I gotta admit—in your case, violence is tempting. You know what most folks think of you dealing dope, right? The news is filled with slipheads bleeding their brains out in back alleys, and folks are scared it's gonna be their kids next." He shook Lonnie, none too gently. "They'll probably cheer, seeing a dealer get a little roughed up."

"Ain't done nothing," Lonnie repeated.

Jasper dug his fingers into one of Lonnie's pockets and pulled out a wad of cash. "This is nothing, huh?"

"You need a warrant to search my pockets," Lonnie recited.

"Not if you're under arrest. And this?" He waved a baggie of white powder in Lonnie's face.

"That's not mine! You planted it on me!"

"Yeah, right. Every jury in the country will believe that." Jasper shook his head. "Listen, kid. Your luck isn't looking good right now, but maybe I can help you. You know we're not really after you. We just want to get this shit off the streets. We're after the boss, the man known as the Captain."

Lonnie squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head like a dog. "I don't know anyone like that."

Jasper put more weight on his boot. "Tell me who the Captain is. You wanna get locked up? Is that what you want? I can let you go. Just tell me who, or where, the Captain is and I'll let you go."

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know," Lonnie whined.

Jasper grunted and heaved the kid up and into the back of his squad car. It was no good trying to get any of these losers to talk. They were all terrified of the Captain. Plus they knew Volterra always paid the bail for kids that didn't snitch. Lonnie would be out on the street selling more bags within days.

* * *

 _Bella_

We were on our way to the Ferris wheel when four men came out of an alley and flanked us. I stiffened. But surely it was safe here at the fair, with so many people around. Edward took a half-step forward, blocking the others' access to me protectively.

The man in the lead spoke to Edward, his face hard and closed. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave the Fair."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "Really? May I ask why?" he asked mildly.

The man said, "I'm Evan Merrill, the general manager of the Fair, and we have the right to deny access to anyone for any reason. Please step this way." The three other men closed ranks behind him. Two were large and burly, and all were hostile.

Edward's voice was calm. "Mr. Merrill, I suggest that you not go through with this." There was no anger in his voice, but it rang with an odd certainty. "You will regret it if you do."

Merrill's face hardened further. "I'll have to insist that you leave. Now, will you come quietly or will we have to carry you out of here?" The other men edged closer. I clutched Edward's arm.

He placed a hand on mine. "Don't worry, Bella. They won't bother us any more if we just leave now. It was time to go anyway."

I let out my breath. One never knew; sometimes the mildest-seeming guys could become combative at the drop of a hat, if they thought they had been disrespected or insulted. We followed the Fair officials toward the exit. Edward's face was placid, without a trace of anger or hostility. He seemed more mature than many of the kids I knew.

No more words were exchanged as we were escorted to an exit gate. Edward's eyes were sparkling as we walked back to his car.

"Well. That was quite an experience," he said.

"I've never been evicted from anything before. Do you think it was because of what happened at the booth?"

"That's what I think. I'm surprised they would target me. Not very polite, was it?"

His car gleamed under the halogen lights of the parking lot. Edward opened the door and helped me into the seat. "Please forgive me, Bella, but I have a phone call I need to make. Do you mind?"

"Go ahead." I watched through the front windshield as he pulled out his cell phone. His face was serene as he talked; I wondered what he was saying to the person on the other end. After a few minutes he slid into the driver's seat.

"I have a favorite spot I'd like to take you, if you're interested. It's a bit of a drive, but worth it in the end." He started the engine and pulled out. "The road winds a little, but the view is spectacular."

"I'm not sure," I began, "I get a little carsick on winding roads."

Edward laughed. "And what you're not saying is, with the way I drive, you're sure to lose that fine hot dog dinner we had at the fair." His lips twitched. "Don't worry. I'll keep it slow for you."

It took about an hour to reach the location Edward had in mind. He kept his word, driving almost as sedately as a normal person. We drove up a winding highway for forty minutes and turned off onto a smaller road. Finally he turned left, crested a small rise, and there it was—the entire city spread out before us.

"What a gorgeous view," I said. Jewels of orange and white light were strung against a black velvet night, lines of living light crisscrossing the darkness below. Overhead, stars flickered in their heavy, dark dome.

Edward helped me out of the car, and led me to a large, flat rock overlooking the view. There was an icy breeze blowing in our faces at this elevation, and goose bumps rose on my arms. Edward spread out his coat on the cold surface of the rock for me to sit on.

"Well?" he asked. "Was it worth the trip?"

"Oh, yes!" I breathed, unable to stop staring at the dazzling vista.

He took my cold hand in his warm one. His touch was thrilling and comforting at the same time. "Your hand is cold," he murmured. He brought his other hand to cover it, and looked out over the city. I followed his gaze. Far below and to our right, I saw something odd.

"It looks like something's on fire over there." I leaned forward and focused my eyes.

Off in the distance, tiny points of flame flickered over a square of irregular pinpoints of light. Behind it a miniscule glowing wheel rose over the flat pattern of lights on the ground. "It looks like it's the Fair!" The flames appeared to leap and gather, and now I was able to pick out other landmarks as well.

Edward gave an indifferent shrug. "Who knows?" He touched my arm. "Bella," he whispered in my ear. "I have something important I'd like to tell you."

I tore my eyes away from the display, blinking up at him.

"Do you know that I've been watching you for a while, trying to get up the courage to ask you out?"

I shook my head. "No, how could that be? I'm so ordinary."

He reached out and stroked my cheek. "I can't believe you're saying that. Don't you know you're beautiful?"

My cheeks heated. "That's a nice thing to say, but..."

He touched my hair. "Your hair—its highlights are the color of the last trace of sunset. Those eyes are like the most delectable of fine chocolates. And your face." He cupped both hands around my head. "Your face is perfection itself. It's as though you were created by a master artist."

A rush of heat shot through my face and then my body. A chill breeze threaded its way through my hair and I shivered. Edward slid closer and enveloped me in both arms. I relaxed against his chest. I had never been so physically close to a man before, unless you counted that disastrous date with Jeremy Brunswick last year, and I don't think he really counted as a man. Edward's arms and chest were hard and muscular; his flesh felt dense and powerful. The scent of him was unlike anything I'd encountered before, the clean scent of his skin mingling with the spicy aroma of a soap I didn't recognize. He gathered me in under his chin and rubbed his cheek against my hair. My face brushed against his shirt; the fabric was soft and smooth, the weave of the shirt incredibly fine.

His hand encircled the nape of my neck, warm beneath my hair. His lips brushed my forehead and I found myself shaking. Was he going to kiss me? I wasn't ready. I heard Charlie's warnings in my head. "Never kiss on the first date." All this time I had promised him I would be good, sworn I would never be like our mother. I should pull away, make some snide comment to break the mood.

But instead, I snuggled closer to Edward, even tipping my head ever so slightly back, the smooth, cool skin of his jawline rubbing against my face. I felt the soft pressure of his lips against my mouth, and froze. I pressed my closed lips against his, while a fountain of sparks burst from every part of my body.

He pulled back a moment, giving me time to catch my breath. I relaxed, but he teased my mouth with small kisses, stroking and caressing, fingers coming up to brush my skin, and with his thumb he eased my lips apart. I couldn't help but part them, and he matched his mouth to mine, his lips warm, softer than the silk of his shirt. He tasted extraordinary, like peppermint and high-tension wires, the flavor generating a sensation that engulfed my body in a wave of fire. His tongue plunged inside me and I found myself welcoming him in, allowing him to explore my mouth, an electric thrill shooting down to my breasts and below.

If this was what kissing was like, no wonder so many people raved about it, why poetry was written, why lips, mouth and tongue yearned to touch and caress. How could I have lived this long and never known? He released me and I found myself straining toward him, seeking the heat of his mouth, the silk of his tongue. I felt something I had never dared allow myself to feel. I heard a sound deep in his throat, and I collapsed against him.

He held me, breathing fast, his heart thumping against my cheek, his hand stroking me ever so gently.

As we sat together gazing out over the city, I heard, off in the distance, the sound of sirens from multiple fire engines on the city streets below. But they were faint and far away, and I barely heard them over the drumming of my heart.


	9. Chapter 9

_Bella_

"Bella!" Jessica's voice carried across the courtyard as she ran down the school steps. "Oh my God, I'm so glad you're okay!" she cried, running full-tilt at me. I ducked out of the way with the ease of long practice at evading Jessica's full-body hugs.

"What's wrong?"

"Didn't you see the news yesterday?" Jessica gasped, out of breath.

"No, I got home late on Saturday, and spent Sunday catching up on homework," I said, swinging my backpack over the other shoulder. "What was on the news?"

"There was a huge fire at the Fall Festival Fair." Jessica's eyes were big. "All sorts of trailers and equipment burned down. A bunch of people had to go to the hospital. One guy died! And it turned out they were dealing drugs out there at the carnival. The police made a bunch of arrests and they shut down the entire Fair."

So it was a fire. And people died? I shivered. I hadn't even been thinking about it all weekend. To be honest, I'd spent the entire time replaying Edward's kiss in my head and wondering if he'd kiss me again. Could I possibly be more shallow? "That's awful! We didn't see anything of that. It was all pretty quiet while we were there. I guess we got lucky that they threw us out."

"What? Who threw you out? Why?" Jessica's rapid-fire questions came one upon the heels of the next and I waved my hand at her.

"Slow down! I'll tell you and Leah everything at lunch."

"No!" Jessica grabbed me around the shoulders, hard. "You're going to tell me everything, now!"

"All right, all right!" I pushed her away. "Edward discovered one of the people running a booth had rigged their game so you couldn't win, and he somehow got around it. I guess that made the Fair people mad, because not too long afterward, the Fair manager came up to us with three goons and told us we had to leave."

"The Fair manager?" asked Jessica. "Do you remember his name?"

"Evan something, I think."

"Evan Merrill?" Jessica pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. "Yeah, the Fair manager, Evan Merrill, was the guy that was killed. The police found drugs in his trailer. They think he was the ringleader of a drug cartel!" Her fingers flew over the phone. "You actually met the guy that night? Scary!"

"He's dead?" I wrapped my arms around my stomach. "He didn't seem like a drug dealer at all." I paused, suddenly wondering exactly what a drug dealer would be like. "Anyway, he was really angry for some reason. Maybe his drug deal was going wrong."

"What else did he say?"

"Not all that much. He just told Edward and me that we had to leave the Fair, and that as the manager, he had the right to evict us." I thought back over the confrontation that evening. "At first I was afraid Edward would get all upset. He said something a little strange—at least I thought it was strange at the time."

"What? What did he say?" Jessica looked like she was ready to jump at me and shake me to get the news out of me faster.

"He said something like, 'You'll regret this,' and I remember thinking it sounded all ominous. I was worried at first there might be a fight."

"Yeah?"

"But he was really calm about it, not angry at all. Then he just agreed to go and we went. I remember thinking that Edward was really mature about the whole situation." I tilted my head. "Not like some other people at this high school."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "You really like him, don't you? Did he kiss you?"

I blushed but didn't say anything. My body felt light, as though it were bread slowly rising in a warm oven.

Jessica grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."

I had to say something to distract her. I did not want to be describing my kiss right here in school. "Edward—he's always doing all these little things for me, like holding doors open. I didn't know people did that anymore."

"Ha! Chivalry is not dead!" She grinned.

"When he looks at me, I feel strange inside. When he held my hand, I didn't want to let go. He said I was beautiful." I smiled to myself, and Jessica's expression softened.

The bell rang and she started. "Shit!" she cried. "I'm late for class and we've got a test! But remember, you'll tell me everything at lunch!" She streaked off down the hall.

My first class had been temporarily moved to a new location since our regular classroom had gotten flooded. So I ended up running to the new room, late. I wasn't as familiar with this part of the school, so I had to check the room numbers as I ran. I stopped to catch my breath in front of a girls' bathroom.

I was in an older and more run-down part of the school, where many of the windows were cracked and faded stains from leaks ran down some of the walls. I'd heard that some of the bathrooms here were in bad shape and even dangerous. But surely it wouldn't be a problem if I just quickly used the toilet and left.

I pushed open the door and went in. The bathroom smelled even worse than the one I usually used and was poorly lit. Black spray paint marked the walls. My shoes stuck to the floor, and a pile of used tampons and pads lay scattered against one wall.

I was hurrying toward one of the stalls when a hand grabbed my shoulder. Two girls stood there with hands on hips, brows lowered. They must have been sitting in the little nook off to one side of the door that I hadn't seen when I first came in.

"What the fuck you think you're doing?" The one who grabbed my shoulder had frizzy ash-blonde hair bound up into two high ponytails.

The other girl stood behind her, short, spiky brown hair topping a thin face dominated by outraged green eyes gleaming beneath thick eyeliner and heavy mascara.

My heart pounded in my chest. I should step up to them and stare them down. They didn't own the bathroom. But instead I smiled and spread my hands, trying to be placating. "I really need to use the bathroom." What a wimp.

The blonde snorted. "Right. Invade our territory, try to pretend you're innocent. That ain't gonna work, bitch." She raised her fist. "We gonna show you why you should stay the fuck out."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just wanted to use the bathroom. If you want me to leave, I'll go somewhere else." I edged backwards toward the door.

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Don't think you gonna get away, bitch. Debra. Get behind her."

"Kim, just let her go. It's not worth it."

Kim sneered. "She's gotta be punished."

"We don't need any more trouble."

"Shut up!" the blonde shrieked as she rounded on Debra with a ferocious glare. "Who's gonna know?"

With a sudden, swift movement, she grabbed a handful of my hair and punched me in the face. I smelled the reek of alcohol mixed with some other pungent aromatic and bright pain flared in my mouth. I tasted blood, and when I drew my hand away from my face, it was stained red.

I needed to do something. Say something. Slap her. Fight back. I lifted my hand. But all I could remember was my mother shrieking at me, the same smell of alcohol on her breath. "Don't move! Don't talk!" she would say. "Good girls never fight. Just lie there and take it." Instead of attacking, I froze. My mother screamed in my face, that horrible alcoholic stench filling my brain.

Kim laughed, and shoved me so hard I fell to the floor. "Stupid little bitch. Can't even fight." Her eyes narrowed. "Lessee, what next?"

The brunette tugged at her arm. "Kim, that's enough! Just let her go now."

Kim shrugged her off. "I'm only just beginning."

I gathered my legs under me. No matter what my mother said, I was going to fight back.

The bathroom door crashed against the wall and the whole room shook. The kid who appeared in the doorway stood nearly six feet, arms bulging with muscle under a denim vest. Blond combed-back hair framed a face twisted by a heavy sneer. The guy fighting with Jacob in the lunchroom.

"James!" gasped Kim. "You ain't s'posed to be here!"

He snorted. "I could hear you two bitches all the way down the hall." He took in the scene with me kneeling on the floor, blood on my face, and Kim's fierce grip on my hair. "Having some fun when nobody's watching?"

He took two quick steps forward and without warning, punched Kim hard in the face. His fist slammed powerfully against her jaw and she cried out as she was thrown violently against the wall. She landed with a smack and slid down onto the floor amidst the dirty tampons. Debra, wheeling around, tried to attack James from behind, but he swung his arm almost casually to the side and knocked her into the other wall where she lay stunned. Kim struggled to lift herself up on her elbows. Blood streamed from her lips.

"You bastard! The Captain's gonna get you!" she said, breathing harshly as she wiped her mouth with her fist. "I'm his… princess, and you can't hurt me! He'll kill you!"

James grinned sarcastically. "As if the Captain would do anything for a shithead like you." He scowled. "What's wrong with you? Are you too drunk or too stupid to remember we don't attack civilians without orders?"

Then he rounded on me. "And you, dumbass, are you really stupid enough to enter our territory without permission?"

I pressed my elbows into my sides. "I'm sorry—I didn't know."

He rolled his eyes. "What's with all the dipshit idiots today? All right." He grabbed me roughly by the arm and dragged me to the door. "Time for a lesson, bitch. See that mark?" He pointed to a symbol, three concentric diamonds sprayed on the door with black paint. "That means it's Volterra territory and you should stay out." He glared. "You know who we are, right?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Good." He leaned against the wall, one hand on his hip. "You know we own this school. You stay out of our way, you'll be okay. But if you cross us—" He drew his finger across his throat and leered. "Get it?"

Terrified, I nodded again.

"Now, get out of here." He folded his arms. "You keep your mouth shut or you'll be in a fuckload of trouble."

"I won't say a word to anyone," I promised. I dusted off my clothes, grabbed my backpack, and ran into the hall.

Because my face was bloody, I decided it would be better to skip class and go directly to the health center.

"What happened to you, dear?" the volunteer asked as she examined my mouth and teeth for damage.

"I ran into a bathroom door," I explained, eyes downcast.

The woman lifted an eyebrow. But she said nothing more as she swabbed my face and daubed disinfectant on my cut lip. "There. No permanent harm done. Just some lacerations and a little bruising. You'll have to be careful what you eat for a couple of days, but you should heal quickly." She unlocked a medicine cabinet and shook two acetaminophen tablets into her hand.

"Here." She filled a paper cup with water from the sink. "Take these for the pain and swelling." She watched as I obediently swallowed the pills. "Do you have acetaminophen at home?"

I shook my head. My mother didn't believe in medicine. The woman opened another drawer. She took out a tiny cardboard pillbox and shook four more tablets into it. "You can take two more every four to six hours."

I nodded my thanks and slipped away to class. The halls were uncharacteristically silent, only a few students with hall passes ambling through. As I rounded a corner near my classroom, a boy loomed out of a hallway.

I jumped backwards, still shell-shocked from my experience. Then I recognized him. "Jacob! You startled me."

"Bella, I saw you in the hall bleeding, and that bastard James Witherdale leaving from the same direction." He peered at the bandage on my chin. "Did he hurt you?"

Oh great. Just what I needed, more people involved in my problems. "No!" I said. "No, Jacob, he didn't do anything. I just, uh, ran into a bathroom door and hurt my mouth." I pointed at the bandage. "It didn't really hurt, but it was bleeding all over the place, so I went to the health center." I didn't meet his eyes. I was a terrible liar.

"You ran into a bathroom door with your mouth?" He sounded highly skeptical.

"Yeah," I mumbled, noticing the ceiling light fixture was full of bugs. "I wasn't looking where I was going, and, well, you know how clumsy I am." I gave an embarrassed laugh that sounded fake even to me.

"You sure James didn't bother you? Because if he did, I'll pound that bastard into the floor."

"I'm sure!" I pleaded. "I did see him, but he just got me a paper towel to wipe up the blood." I hurried on, "He was actually helpful. And I'm okay now!" I added with an attempt at cheerfulness.

Jacob crossed his arms over his chest. "All right. But if he or anybody else bothers you, you let me know, right?"

He stepped away from the wall to let me pass. He was still scowling and something terrifying lurked in his eyes.

I shuddered as I rounded the corner, still shaky. Even Jacob seemed threatening. What underlying savagery lay hidden beneath the normal daily life of our high school? It was bad enough running into gangs protecting their territory—I promised myself that I would never forget that gang mark—but if even Jacob was acting strange, it was chilling. I had known him for a long time and he'd never acted like that before. What was going on?

* * *

 _Jacob_

Jacob scowled as Bella disappeared around the corner to her class. Something was off about her story. That bastard James was up to something again. He always seemed to be around whenever something bad was going down. But because of his connections, he always got away with everything. It was up to Jacob to single-handedly protect the vulnerable from James and his buddies' dirty schemes. His eyes narrowed as he remembered what he had seen the other day.

He had been coming home from the store, striding along streets mostly deserted in the sleepy weekend afternoon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of movement. James and Riley Biers were sneaking into the bushes near an apartment building. He crossed the street to follow them, but by the time he reached the building, they were gone. He prowled around the area for a few more minutes, but couldn't find any trace of them, so finally he gave up and went home. All at once, he realized it had been Bella's apartment building.

When he'd seen James coming out of the corridor after Bella had been injured, he'd been surprised at the incredible blaze of anger that had risen in his chest. Was he targeting Bella in some way? The next time he saw James, he was going to goddamn well piece him. Just for the hell of it. He'd known Bella for a long time, and she always seemed to be getting into accidents or various kinds of trouble. Someone needed to protect her.

Bella's face stayed in his mind, unshakable. Irritated, he wondered why. She was an acquaintance, nothing more. He didn't have time to get interested in girls right now; he was busy writing applications for various scholarships so he could go to college and get the hell out of this lousy neighborhood. He needed to stay focused.

* * *

 _Bella_

Edward was waiting for me at my locker after school. Something leaped in my chest when I saw him leaning against the wall, his thick hair messy as ever.

"Hi!" I said cheerily. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the bandage on my chin and the bruising around my lips.

"What happened to you?"

"Oh, it's nothing." I was getting tired of my own story by now. "I ran into a bathroom door."

"Really?"

"Nobody seems to believe me," I said with an annoyed expression.

"It is a rather lame excuse." Edward smiled at my exasperation. But to my relief, he didn't pursue it further. "I wanted to ask you if you'd like to go out to dinner on Friday."

I pulled books out of my backpack and shoved them into my locker. My friends had advised me at lunchtime to tell Edward I was busy the next time he asked me out, so he didn't think I was easy.

Leah had said, hand on her hip, "Girl, you don't want to look like you're thirsting."

Jessica added, "No one likes a girl who's always available. No matter how horndogs you are, you gotta play it cool."

"Both of you, shut up! You're disgusting!"

I slammed the locker shut. Now that he was standing here asking me, I found the idea of playing such a game repulsive. But it was hard to go against Leah's advice. I knew she'd grill me later.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but I'm busy. I've got to, uh, do homework, you see, and it's a really long assignment."

He leaned closer to me, his face inches from mine. "Homework?" he whispered. "Really?" He was standing so close, too close. That gorgeous face filled my vision and I could smell his spicy cologne, and all I wanted was to fall into his arms and ravish his mouth. My legs felt weak and my eyes half-closed.

No. Not in the middle of the hallway in broad daylight.

I swallowed. What were we talking about again?

He straightened, smirking. "I suppose it's no problem. We'll just have to see what we can do about your… homework. I'll come by your apartment and pick you up at six."

"What?" Didn't I say no?

Heading off, he said over his shoulder, "And remember, don't forget drama club on Wednesday!"


	10. Chapter 10

_James_

James was half-dozing in the back row of English class, ignoring the teacher going on about subordinate clauses. He yawned ostentatiously. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't stupid. He just had an utter lack of interest in anything that didn't translate into immediate advantage on the streets. He knew there was no possible need for him to know details about grammar. All he needed to know about language was how to cuss out his opponents in a fight.

A freshman entered the class with a note for the teacher, looking unbelievably young and timid. James found it hard to believe he could have ever been that young. He smirked.

The teacher read the note. "James Witherdale," she said, "you are being sent to the principal's office at once." Clearly, she disapproved of him and his behavior, but frankly, James felt the same about her. To him, it was a mark of achievement to be a thorn in the side of the school administration.

James got up with a swagger. One of his friends in the back row muttered a comment he didn't quite hear, and he said, "Don't get jealous that I'm so important the principal asks my advice now." His friend snorted.

The tiny freshman escorted him to the principal's office, too scared to say a word. James spent the walk looming over him and enjoying the kid's obvious terror. He wondered idly what transgression he had been caught at this time. There were so many it was hard for him to keep track.

But when the principal's door opened and James walked in, the person sitting behind the principal's desk was not old man Greene, but Edward Cullen.

Edward was lounging in the high-backed leather chair, a faint smile on his face as he met James's eyes. He had removed his glasses, and his expression of calm arrogance was very different from that of the quiet, straight-A student his teachers knew. An aura of power and command seemed to surround him. James glanced over his shoulder to see one of Edward's top lieutenants, Laurent, closing the door and his right-hand man, Emmett, leaning against the wall.

James swallowed. This wasn't good. James had never been summoned to the office this way before. He rarely even met with Edward outside of gang territory, and if he did, he was supposed to pretend he didn't know him. They were expected to move in completely different social circles, where Edward would never associate with the likes of him. But now, the mask was off, and Edward was in his other persona, that of the feared "Captain" of Volterra, the absolute ruler of one of the most powerful gangs in the city, and the man who held James's and many others' lives in the palm of his hand. Although James had utterly no concerns about Greene's opinion of him, it was a completely different story with Edward. His heart raced. A private interview with Edward was never good news. Could he have learned about James's clandestine activities? James had heard all the stories of people who'd crossed Edward and never been seen again. The space between his shoulder blades prickled as he stood with his back to Laurent and Emmett, both of whom were very good with a knife.

He approached the desk. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, schooling the tone of his voice to deference.

"Yes." Edward's voice was calm, giving no clue as to the state of his mind. "Please sit down, James."

As James settled himself, Edward spoke with his trademark politeness. "Thank you for coming. I have a few questions for you."

Sweat broke out on James's forehead and he forced himself to appear calm. "Of course."

"I understand you had—an encounter with Bella Swan yesterday morning."

James was puzzled. He didn't recognize the name, and he cast his memory over what had happened that morning but drew a blank. Edward saw his baffled expression, and his eyes narrowed. He picked up a small photograph lying on the desk and tossed it to the edge in front of James. "This girl."

James picked up the photo. The girl's face was angled toward the camera, looking over her shoulder and laughing. She had huge dark eyes, and masses of chestnut hair falling over her shoulder. His heart chilled. It was the girl he had seen in the bathroom yesterday, the girl Kim and Debra were beating up. What was Edward's interest in the fight? Had Kim made good on her threat to tattle to Edward, and was this the result? It would be surprising if Edward cared that he had given Kim and Debra a good thrashing; he never had before when James disciplined lower-ranking members of the gang. Or was this girl really a rival gang member encroaching on their territory rather than the innocent civilian he had taken her for? In that case, he would be in big trouble.

He took a deep breath, and tried to order the events in his mind carefully, so he could describe what happened clearly.

"OK. I heard a racket coming from the bathroom on the first floor at the far end of building 3, so I went to check it out. I saw Kim and Debra beating up this girl, who said she had walked into the bathroom by accident. I told them to stop, that we didn't attack civilians." He took a breath. Edward's face continued to be neutral. "In my opinion, Kim was just looking for someone to have some fun with. I guess she was too high to remember your orders. She was pretty wasted. I mean, this girl really was just clueless and had walked in by mistake. She didn't even recognize our mark on the door. I showed it to her, warned her to keep her mouth shut, and she left. I gave Kim and Debra a little lesson; then I left."

"My sources tell me the girl was bleeding from the mouth when she left the bathroom. Did you have anything to do with that?"

James gaped, confused at Edward's interest in this detail. "Me? No. Kim punched her and was roughing her up, that's all. I didn't touch her." Edward's eyes bored into his. The silence in the room stretched out and became uncomfortable, but James didn't dare break it. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he had been in Volterra long enough to realize that his life was at risk.

His primary defense now was the fact that he was telling the truth. Edward sometimes appeared to have an uncanny ability to read people's faces, extracting their emotions and even their inmost thoughts from the slightest movements of their facial muscles. James swallowed again, convulsively, but kept his face impassive. He was innocent of whatever Edward suspected with the girl. But did he know about James's other plans? A bead of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled down the side of his face. If he suspected what else James had been doing on the side, he would surely order him killed.

But in this particular case, Edward's ability should work to his advantage. James had done nothing to the girl.

"I see." Edward finally broke the silence. "Thanks for your information." He leaned back in the chair, propping his elbow on the armrest. "I have new orders for you. This girl, Bella Swan, is to be placed on the list of individuals under our protection. Do you understand?" James struggled to keep his face neutral. "Make an announcement at the next meeting."

James nodded, still a little mystified. There were a number of people under the gang's protection for various reasons, due to ransom payments, deals, or other purposes that suited Edward's often convoluted plans. He knew Edward wouldn't want to hear questions about his orders, so he simply stood up. He kept himself from breathing a sigh of relief. Edward hadn't said anything, so surely he didn't suspect. James was still alive, wasn't he?

As he was about to open the door, Edward's quiet voice stopped him. "Oh, and James? What about your other task?"

James paused, hand on the door, relaxed and grinning now. "Oh, that's all been taken care of. Everything was done as you ordered."

"Good."

After Edward dismissed him and James was walking back to his classroom, a sly grin spread over his face and there was a new spring in his step. He would be dead by now if Edward knew. He must be getting away with it.

But what was going on with Bella Swan? Why would Edward place her under their protection? Was he fucking her? Edward never cared what happened to his fuck-toys. He'd never put any of them under the gang's protection before. And this Bella—she seemed too clueless to be doing anything of value to them.

He shrugged. He didn't give a shit, after all. He remembered the girl's face in the bathroom that morning as she lay on the floor, her hair in Kim's grasp. Whatever was going on, it was clear Kim was in big trouble. But after what that bitch had done to him—fuck her. Kim was gonna be in a world of hurt soon. He grinned again. Very soon.


	11. Chapter 11

_Bella_

I plopped down beside Leah at our usual lunch table in the cafeteria. "That physics quiz today was tough!"

Leah shrugged. "I think I passed; that's all I can hope for." She scrutinized my face. "I'm glad to see that you've healed completely from your accident earlier this week."

I flushed. "Yeah. I told you it wasn't a big deal." I bent my head and rooted around in my bag. Leah snorted.

Jessica arrived, scowling and out of breath, and dumped her backpack on the table with a loud thump. "Why do the teachers in this school think they have to set a new world record for homework? We're seniors. They know we need to be working on our college applications."

"Wow! You're both in bad moods today. Cheer up!"

Leah grimaced. "Why? Because the weather is so beautiful today?" Her voice heavy with sarcasm, she waved at the window where a cold rain was sleeting heavily down.

Jessica rolled her eyes. "No, Bella is happy because she's finally seeing someone. And whose fault is that? Leah?"

"What can I say? I'm good," Leah said smugly over a bite of hamburger.

"So now we're stuck with her boyfriend." Jessica got out her lunch. "And speaking of boyfriends, I hear you have a date tonight. Are you going to tell us about it?"

"Edward asked me out for dinner. We're going to a restaurant."

"Yeah, tell me again why you didn't say no? After all my advice?" Leah scowled.

"I did say no!" I protested. "But somehow… he thought I said yes."

Leah shook her head. "Either you ignored my advice again or Edward's a controlling bastard," she said darkly. "And we know that can't be true because he's such a nerdy teddy bear." Then she straightened. "I suppose it doesn't matter, since he still seems to be interested. So, which restaurant is he taking you to?"

"He said it was called something like La Seagull or something like that." I pulled out a plastic container of peanut butter and some crackers.

Jessica's jaw dropped. " _La Cigale_?" she asked. "He's taking you to the fanciest French restaurant in town?"

"He did say it was a French restaurant," I acknowledged around a mouthful of peanut butter. "Mmm, this is so good."

"Wow, where does he get his money? Is he from a rich family?" Jessica grabbed my arm. "That place costs more than a couple hundred dollars a person!"

"He has a part-time job."

"Some part-time job," Leah commented dryly. "I know mine doesn't pay well enough to treat people to dinner at fancy restaurants." She lowered her brows. "How could he possibly—"

I stopped spreading the peanut butter, knife poised over the last cracker. "Oh! I didn't think of that!" I put my hand to my chest. "Maybe I should ask him to take me to McDonalds instead. I don't want him to waste money on me."

Jessica groaned. "Bella, you don't take someone out for a romantic date to McDonalds."

"No," Leah said. "You don't want to insult him. He obviously wants to do something special for you. You have to go along with it."

"Just watch your thirst!" said Jessica.

I cringed. "I'm not _thirsty_! That's so tacky."

The first bell rang, and Leah stuffed the last of her burger in her mouth. "I doubt he'll be able to afford to take you to places that nice very often. Enjoy it while it lasts!" She balled her trash into a pile and dumped it on her lunch tray. "Gotta go—test in math. See you later!"

Jessica hoisted her backpack with a grunt. "The forecast is for it to clear up later tonight. You should have a nice night. And the moon is full." She called over her shoulder, "Make sure he takes you to some romantic spot."

When Edward knocked on my door that evening, he was wearing a dark charcoal gray wool suit over a white linen shirt and dark maroon tie, and it transformed him. He no longer looked like an attractive teenager; he was a man, exuding power and elegance. The stylishly tailored suit outlined his long limbs and subtly emphasized the grace and beauty of his body, setting off his narrow face with its high cheekbones, full lips, and shock of thick bronze hair. Aware I was staring, my cheeks heated and I almost tripped as I stepped aside to let him enter.

He chuckled, deep in his throat, as he steadied me with one strong hand and I half-fell against him. His body was hard and solid and I found myself clinging to him.

"Careful," he murmured in his voice like dark chocolate. "You don't want to fall."

Too late. I had already fallen. I gazed up at his dark, dark eyes. Thrills chased through my body at his touch, alternating hot and cold, as though I was burning up with fever. I felt weak all over. I'd gone on dates with classmates before, but this was something completely different. Edward was not one of those boys, neither crudely aggressive nor painfully shy nor both.

There was an energy about him, a deep vibrating power like I had once felt when I placed my bare foot on the train tracks at the far south of town. Dangerous. Risky. I should run away.

He no longer seemed like the quiet intellectual classmate I had once thought he was. As I had melted under the spell of his wild and unrestrained driving on the road the other night, tonight I could sense something equally hazardous, thrilling, lurking just beneath his calm smile and seething eyes.

He was everything my mother had warned me about, the day I first bled. "Now you're a woman. That means you're vulnerable." I felt defenseless under his gaze. His hair tumbled over his eyes, eyes traveling up and down my body as though he were starving and I was the only food he wanted to eat.

No one had ever looked at me like that before. I smoothed my hands down my dress self-consciously.

I didn't have spare money for clothes; my mother's spotty income covered food and rent and not much more. In months when we had unexpected expenses, or if my mother decided not to buy supplies, I often had to cut down on eating. In one particularly bad month, I had to subsist almost entirely on the free school breakfasts and lunches. So I always bought food first, clothing second, and shopped exclusively at used clothing stores, searching for bargains even there.

But I had a good eye for clothing, including fit and color. I discovered if I took the bus to Goodwill in the wealthy suburbs to the north of town, I could find plenty of inexpensive, quality clothing. The rich didn't seem to mind getting rid of clothes as soon as they got tired of them, well before they wore out. Their rejects were my gain.

I owned only one dress I considered elegant, and I didn't have many occasions to dress up. It was black; I had originally bought it for a funeral. It was of a simple cut, but the soft jersey clung to my body in a way that I knew enhanced its contours, subtly flattering my figure. With its demure neckline, long sleeves and full mid-calf-length skirt, it was suitable for formal events; but someone had once told me it was sexy.

"Bella, you look spectacular in that dress." The resonance in his voice made me shiver. My head swam, and I swayed again. Did I want to fall again so he would catch me?

I heard Charlie's voice. "You need to leave this room, now, or you're going to do something you'll regret for the rest of your life."

What did he mean? My face was flushed and my clothing felt far too constricting.

"Get a grip on yourself, girl. You look like a bitch in heat." My mother's voice was harsh.

I shook myself, stuffed my feelings down, hard, and tried a polite smile. "Thank you. Um, should we go now?"

Edward's eyes locked on me. He was still holding my arm, and I felt the power vibrating in his muscles. With his other hand he traced a fiery line across my eyebrows and down my cheek. I caught a whiff of his scent, something spicy and strange that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "Yes," he whispered. "Let's go before I become altogether too hungry."

He drove fast but smoothly on the way to the restaurant. I watched out the window as the apartments faded to single-family houses, the houses gradually got bigger and nicer, the yards more manicured as we drove north, until we arrived in a very fancy shopping district I had never visited. A parking spot opened up just in front of the entrance as we arrived, and Edward pulled in smoothly and opened the door for me.

The woman who checked our reservation was dressed more elegantly than anyone I had ever known. Exquisitely made-up, her dark hair wound into an elaborate knot on her head, she led us to a table for two in a private nook, where a waiter in a tuxedo pulled out a chair for me. Awkward and unsure, I sat down too soon, but the waiter handled it gracefully. The long fall of the tablecloth brushed against my knees, and I lifted it nervously, afraid I might clumsily pull it off the table and make a scene.

Everything was too classy for a poor kid from Forks. I was sure in a moment one of those elegant waiters would find me out, and we would be evicted from the restaurant. I touched one of the three differently-shaped spoons in the place setting. What if I used the wrong one?

Edward was from our own neighborhood, and he was as poor as I was; why did he appear so at ease in this high-class environment? He whispered in my ear. "What is it, Bella?"

"I don't know how to use all this."

"Please don't worry. I'll show you everything, I promise."

I didn't even recognize most of the stuff on the menu, so Edward ordered. He chose a caviar appetizer and a main course of roast lobster with chanterelle mushrooms.

"Is it okay if I eat so much bread?" I said, glancing at the nearly-empty basket.

"Eat as much as you like. We can ask for more if you finish it." He laid a warm hand over mine and my fingers fluttered involuntarily like the wings of a butterfly. "Just relax. This isn't a test. The restaurant exists to serve its customers."

When he gave our orders to the waiter, he sounded as though he did it every day, even ordering from the wine list. I turned down the wine, not wanting to mention we were underage in front of the waiter.

It was time for another nervous whisper. "Aren't you going to get in trouble asking for wine?"

Edward chuckled. "My love, you are such an innocent." Why did everyone say that to me? "They won't object at a restaurant of this caliber."

After the most extravagant dinner of my life, culminating with a passion fruit and mango napoleon for dessert, I leaned back with a satisfied groan.

Edward smiled. "I'd like to take you to another favorite spot of mine."

About to eagerly agree, I remembered my friends' advice and mumbled, "Maybe I should get home."

Edward tilted his head to one side. "Mmm, just for a little while? It would mean a lot to me."

Why was it so hard to say no to him? My heart was beating so fast. The thought of going somewhere with him, alone, made electricity buzz through my veins. I should say no. But he was looking at me with such a sweet face, so vulnerable and hopeful, that for once even Charlie seemed satisfied.

"I think he's a gentleman, Bella. You can go. But be careful."

True to the forecast, the clouds had disappeared. The sky blazed with a luminous full moon and a heavy dusting of brilliant stars. He drove carefully without my even asking, holding my hand when he wasn't shifting.

We parked on a quiet hillside overlooking the reservoir. The dark, still water reflected the stars and blended with the city lights far below. Tall trees ringed the meadow around us. When I rolled down my window, the spicy scent of fall leaves mingled with the richer aroma of wildflowers and grasses from the meadow. The air was cool and moist after the day's rain. "Thank you, Edward, for that amazing dinner."

"It was my pleasure. I don't think I've enjoyed a meal more in a very long time." He picked up my hand, brushed it across his lips. "You are fascinating."

I was glad the light was low in the car. Someone hadn't gotten my mother's memo. "I'm nothing special."

"You're completely wrong. You are beyond special. Please don't tell me again that you still don't realize your own beauty." He caressed my cheek with the back of his knuckles, and unconsciously, I lifted my face into his touch.

He stroked my hair back from my face. "Your hair—it fascinates me. That color is like nothing else in the world, glowing like a flame, a flame that fires my soul. Your eyes are the color of the sky after a thunderstorm that has torn into my life and turned everything I understood upside down. And your lips—" he shook his head. "Your lips are softer and more delicate than the petals of a rose. You have such power to overwhelm me—with your gentleness." He touched the base of his neck. "When I look at you, I'm reminded of what it's like to feel… deeply, what it's like to care for another human being, more than anything else in the world."

I fiddled with the sleeve of my dress. "Edward, you are a poet."

"No," he said. His face was in shadow. "You are poetry." He took my face in his hands and brought it to his. When his face was inches away I closed my eyes.

His lips were warm as he caressed me with his mouth. He slipped one hand behind my head, running his fingers through my hair. His other hand moved around my back, pulling me closer, his body warm against mine. The expensive fabric of his suit brushed against my skin like warm silk, and I inhaled his clean, sweet scent. His lips opened and he softly kissed each side of my mouth, his tongue licking my lips, and gliding inside my mouth. Heat rose through my body like warm water and I pressed myself against him. His arms tightened around me. I could feel the blood pulsing through my veins, alive in my fingertips, my face, my lips, every place where my skin was touching his; I felt as though I were going to fly away into the night sky in his arms.


	12. Chapter 12

_Jacob_

Jacob scowled as he entered the school cafeteria. He'd just argued with one of his teachers, and he'd had to switch lockers because his old one had gotten a big dent when he smashed James's head into it the other day. So he was late and the lunch line snaked halfway across the big room.

He found himself checking the far corner of the room where Leah, Jessica, and Bella normally sat. To his surprise, there was a fourth person sitting at their table. His eyes widened as he recognized Edward Cullen, class nerd and senior class president. What was he doing at Bella's table? As he stared in shock, Edward laughed at something one of the other girls said and slipped his arm around Bella. Rather than pulling away, Bella smiled up at him and leaned into his embrace.

Red hazed his vision, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of their table.

"Hey, Jacob," Leah asked, "what's up?"

"Hello, Jacob," Bella sang out, far too happy for his liking.

Edward's expression was mild, but Jacob saw a glint of triumph and possessiveness in his eyes half-hidden behind his lenses. He wanted nothing more than to punch those glasses off his face, to wipe the faint smirk off his mouth. He took a deep breath. He had to get it under control.

Jacob ran a hand through his hair, making it stick out even more all over the place. "Bella, could I speak to you for a moment?"

"Sure," she said cheerfully, standing up. Edward let his arm slip away from her, capturing one of her hands in his and giving it a small squeeze.

Jacob's temper flared again but he tamped it down as he and Bella stepped away from the table. "What is it, Jacob? Has something happened?"

"Huh? No, it's nothing."

"You look so upset."

"No, I just had a problem last period and got to the cafeteria late." He put a hand to the back of his neck. How long had he taken it for granted that she would always be there, just be Bella. What was different now?

"Then what's wrong?"

"Bella," he blurted out, "would you like to go to the Halloween Ball with me?" He stopped short, surprised at himself. Wasn't he certain he didn't want to get involved with anyone this year? He couldn't read the expression on Bella's face. He didn't want to give her false hopes. "I mean, just as friends," he stuttered.

Bella's shoulders drooped a little. "I'm sorry, Jacob. I would have very much enjoyed going to the dance with you—as friends." She reached out her hand and then drew it back. "But Edward has already asked me—and I said yes. Maybe some other time?"

He couldn't speak for a minute. Then he saw she was getting uncomfortable and roused himself. "Sure, Bella. That's okay." He stood frozen, a cold wave washing over him as she returned to the table.

Leah watched him, eyes narrowed. He stood, oblivious to the crowds of students passing by. He was still staring at the back of Bella's head when he felt a sudden, hard shove.

"Hey!" he snarled at Leah. "What was that for?"

"Stop staring at her, idiot!" She put her hands on her hips. "Didn't I warn you to ask her out or someone else would snap her up? And who said he wasn't interested in anyone, hmmm?"

"I—" Jacob stopped himself. "I'm not interested in anyone," he insisted. "And of course Bella can date anyone she likes." He caught his breath. "Just not—him."

"Why not? Edward's a good person, and he treats her right, Jacob."

Unlike you, was left unspoken. "There's something off about him. I don't trust him."

"What do you mean?"

"He seems dangerous to me somehow. I don't feel Bella will be safe around him."

Leah scoffed. "Jacob, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. The only danger here is the green-eyed monster rearing its head. Edward has only been kind and gentle with Bella." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Since you didn't ask her out, you have no right to object to her going out with someone else."

He rubbed his forehead. "You're right. I won't bother her any more. I better get back in line for lunch."

Leah stared at his retreating back. "Jacob, you idiot," she murmured under her breath. "Maybe you could find someone else waiting around under your nose before they get snapped up too." She shrugged and went back to her chair.

* * *

 _Edward_

Edward was relaxing in his study at the clubhouse, an older building in the business district he had bought and renovated with profits from his activities. Title was held under one of the many shell companies he had created for the purpose of holding his acquisitions. The study was a large, windowless room lined with bookshelves, securely located in the center of the building, easily defended in the event of attack, and comfortably furnished.

It was late at night, but he typically needed little sleep. He reclined with a book in an overstuffed armchair in front of a crackling fire, his feet up on an ottoman. A glass of wine rested on a teak end table beside his chair. He spent most of his time away from school here rather than in his aunt's cramped and dingy apartment under her disapproving glower. He could tell that she was relieved that he was gone much of the time as well. She had never seen him as other than an inconvenience; another mouth to feed; another drag on her time. The few times he did show up, she never even bothered to ask where he had been.

It was better here. He sipped his wine. It was an excellent vintage; and it was pleasant to be relaxing here with the dancing warmth of an open fire on his face and arms, so pleasant to watch the flames lick at the fresh, dry wood and slowly consume it.

A key rattled in the door. Edward swung to face it, eyes going to the display on the small hand unit on the end table. He relaxed at the information on the screen.

The door opened and a slight young woman with short, spiky brown hair entered. Clinging to her leg was a small blonde girl of about four or five years of age. The woman jerked to a stop when she spotted Edward.

"Oh, Captain—I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were still here." She gestured apologetically toward the dining table at the other end of the study. "I was just going to clear the dinner dishes."

Edward inclined his head. "By all means, Debra. Please go ahead."

The child let go of Debra's leg and stared at Edward, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes wide. A huge dark bruise discolored one puffy eye and half her face.

He frowned. "What happened to her face?"

Debra was stacking the plates and glasses on a tray. She shot a glance at the little girl and her face darkened. "It was my mom's new boyfriend. He came home drunk and she was passed out again."

"What happened?" Edward asked again.

Her face reddened and her hands clenched at her side. "I guess—he wanted my mom, but she wouldn't wake up, so he went into my sister's room, and—" She trailed off. "I heard Lily scream, and I ran into the room. He was on top of her. I grabbed the desk lamp and hit him on the head. It knocked him out, and I took Lily and came here." She swallowed. "I talked to Laurent, and he said she could stay here tonight, and ask you in the morning for permission for her to stay longer."

Edward's face was impassive. The child was clinging to her older sister's leg again. "This isn't an orphanage, Debra."

"Please, Captain," Debra's voice wavered. She wrung her hands together. "She can stay with me; she won't be any trouble. I can do extra work, both night and day shifts, to pay for her being here."

"And you think a child would be safe here?"

"It's safer than my mom's." Debra drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I'd make it up to you. I swear it."

It might serve his purposes to grant her request, he mused. Debra had demonstrated her loyalty to him when she came forward to inform on Kim after the incident with Bella in the bathroom. A favor such as this could bind her more securely to him at relatively little cost. On the other hand, it wouldn't do for him to get a reputation for being charitable. He'd have to make sure he extracted payment from her in a very visible way. He was still mulling over his revenge on Kim for her actions that day; perhaps he could involve Debra in her punishment.

He considered the little girl again. "You'd have to keep her locked in your room or with you at all times. I don't want children wandering around."

"Of course, Captain." Debra nodded eagerly. "I promise she won't be any trouble to you. You won't even know she's here."

Edward gave her a long, level stare. Finally, he leaned back in the chair, picking up his book. "All right. I'll allow it on a trial basis."

Debra hugged her sister with one arm. "Thank you! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

"I'll expect to be repaid, completely, no matter what the cost," Edward said softly. He allowed a hint of menace to creep into his tone. His dark eyes met hers and she nodded fiercely in understanding. They both knew what it meant to be indebted to him. If she was willing to pay that price, so much the better. He could always find a use for desperately loyal foot soldiers in his plans.

Then he lowered his eyes to his book, and the girls scurried out without further comment.

A few minutes later, five rapid knocks sounded in a rhythmic pattern. "Enter," Edward called, unlocking the door with the remote. Laurent slipped into the room, face expressionless, wrapped in a trenchcoat.

"I have a report for you, Captain. I've been following the girl as you ordered." His voice became scornful. "She appears to be accident-prone and attracts trouble. If there is a pothole in the sidewalk, she will trip over it. If predators frequent an area, she will stumble across them."

"Surely, you had no difficulty with your assignment." His voice was smooth as velvet as he picked up his glass of wine and sipped.

Laurent's voice remained detached and cool. "No. There was no difficulty. Two individuals were going to confront her on the street downtown this evening. I pretended to be a Good Samaritan passing by and scared them off before they reached her. She wasn't disturbed and didn't even notice them."

Edward's eyes narrowed. "Who were they?"

"No one of importance. I doubt they even knew of her connection to us. They're not known members of the Third Street gang who operate in that area. I suspect they were addicts looking for money for their next fix."

Edward rested his chin in his hand and pondered.

"I videotaped the incident, if you want further details."

"Good." Edward shifted in his chair. "Send one copy to me, and another to Emmett with a note that he is to identify the attackers and produce a report on their connections and potential motivations."

"Yes, Captain."

Edward settled back into his armchair and picked up his glass. "Thank you, Laurent. That is all."

Laurent took a few steps toward the door, then stopped. He hesitated for a moment, but his voice was composed when he spoke. "Captain, if you intend to keep this woman safe, may I suggest it would be easier if you brought her into our organization?"

"No." He set his glass down on the table with a snap. "She is to stay unaware of us and our purpose." His voice dropped nearly to a whisper. "That is an order, Laurent."

"Of course, Captain."

After Laurent had left, Edward stared into the dancing flames for a long time. It was unlikely the attack on Bella was a deliberate strike by one of his enemies. However, Laurent's recommendation was logical. Bring Bella fully into the gang, place her directly under their protection, and drill her in the security techniques everyone else had to comply with—that would make it much easier to protect her.

This incident wasn't directed against him—yet. However, as soon as their connection became more broadly known, it was inevitable that further attacks on her would follow, as his enemies sought to gain leverage.

As he deliberated, there was a tapping on the door in the pattern Emmett used. "Enter," he called.

The door opened and Emmett trotted in. His second-in-command was wearing a white Oxford button-down shirt over faded denims. He hitched his hip up onto the armrest of a chair, regarding his long-time ally with a wide grin on his face.

"So," he drawled, "I hear you have a new love interest."

"And if I do?"

"Isn't it a bad time to get distracted, Captain, with the start of our new venture right now?"

Edward gazed into the fire. "I'm not distracted."

"You see something you want and you reach out for it, same as always. Don't you think it might be a risk, especially now?"

"She serves a purpose in my plans. That's all you need to know."

"I know what you're using her for, but why put her officially under your protection? Why spare so much manpower to guard her?" Emmett's smile was wider than usual. "Sounds like she's something more than another one of your tools. Why should it matter whether she lives or dies?"

"That's enough, Emmett." Edward's voice was quiet but held a deadly edge. "It's my decision where to seek entertainment."

"Entertainment? Is that all it is?"

Edward picked up his glass and sipped, still gazing into the fire. "Why would it be anything else? Has it ever been in the past?"

"No, but this one is different. She's not in the gang; you're hiding your true identity from her. You've never done that before."

Edward shrugged. "She caught my fancy; that's all. Why should I limit myself? In any event, I will not have my decisions questioned or gossiped over. I want you to make it clear to everyone that I won't tolerate any discussion about this matter." He rested his head on the back of the chair and crossed his arms. "The usual consequences will apply. Do I make myself clear?" His voice was soft but Emmett heard the steel undertone.

"Of course, Captain." Emmett slid off the armrest. "But what about next week, won't there be a big risk to her—" He stopped abruptly at the expression on Edward's face. "Sorry." He dropped his eyes and left without another word.

* * *

 _Please leave a review on your way out._


	13. Chapter 13

_Principal Greene / Edward_

The old man walked slowly up the main flight of stairs at the front of the school. Burly and still muscular despite his age, his thick white hair crowning his head, his knees protested as he climbed the stairs. It stuck in his craw every time he had to do something like this, groveling to a person—a student!—who should have no authority over him whatsoever. In the twenty-five years he had been principal of this school, Greene had never before encountered anyone brazen enough to challenge him. Until now.

He growled to himself. At least it would be coming to an end soon, when Edward Cullen left high school at the end of the year. Cullen had promised it would be over then.

He'd been one of the gang's agents ever since that day three years ago when a video had arrived in his mailbox, threatening to expose his daughter for the secret she had sworn no one knew: she had had an abortion before she married her deeply religious husband. She had begged her father to keep it a secret, and so he had given in to the blackmail, carrying out all the gang's orders and serving as their local coordinator, as they moved their primary base and main headquarters to the buildings of Forks High. Payments had appeared in his bank account, and everything had been carefully documented, with the usual attention to detail the rumors said you could expect.

So now they owned him, holding not just his daughter's secrets in their hands, but plenty of his own as well should he ever step out of line.

The one promise the boy—whom he'd been forced to call "Captain"—had made was that at the end of his senior year, the gang would move its headquarters elsewhere and Greene would be allowed to retire, his silence the only further price. Four years of hell, of being an accessory to crimes he didn't even want to think about, and finally the end was in sight.

He nodded to the student on guard outside the door to the room marked 'Teachers' Lounge.' "I have important information for the Captain. He'll want to see me immediately."

The student sniffed, but entered the room at once to relay his words. In a minute he returned and swung the door open to Greene with a jerk of his head.

The former teachers' lounge was spacious and comfortable. It was located in one of the older parts of the building, but had been maintained reasonably well over the years. The wainscoting and crown molding gracing the once-elegant room echoed bygone days of larger school district budgets, when education was believed to be a priority by state government and teaching was a respected profession. The tall floor-to-ceiling wood-mullioned windows offered the best view from the school, overlooking the neighborhood park.

At one end of the room sat Edward Cullen, at his ease in an antique high wing back armchair upholstered in white satin. About two dozen members of his gang were sitting or standing around his chair. In the center of the room, facing Edward, a younger, blond boy was kneeling, wrists bound behind his back, his face pale and terrified, a bright red welt rising on one cheek. Greene grimaced. Although he had made his peace, mostly, with his own complicity in Edward's crimes, the youth seemed to enjoy rubbing his servitude in his face, deliberately allowing him to witness scenes of intimidation, torture, and even threats of murder. The scowl on his face deepened.

He ignored all the others, walked straight up to Edward and said, "I have important information for your ears alone, Captain."

Edward gave him a level stare, then gestured peremptorily with his head. At once the gang members began filtering out of the room. One jerked the bound student to his feet and made him follow.

When the door closed behind them and the two of them were alone in the room, Greene said, "The police chief called me this morning."

Edward said nothing, only raised a brow in inquiry.

"He said that the drug trafficking and gang activity in this area is getting out of hand, and he's had orders direct from the mayor to do something about it. They're especially concerned about this new drug that's recently been appearing on the streets." He beetled his thick white brows at Edward. "So he's sending a team of undercover agents to the school on an infiltration mission. He informed me that I was to be the sole contact to minimize the possibility of leaks."

"Is that so." Edward rested his chin in his hand. "And have you received any information on these undercover agents?"

"Yes. I have their names and descriptions here, as well as the schedule of their arrival. They're adults who can pass for teenagers, experienced undercover cops from other jurisdictions."

Edward held out his hand for the information. He unfolded the piece of paper and ran his eye over the names. "Alice Brandon and Jasper Hale. Very interesting. Have they informed you when they'll send more information?"

"No. This was the final exchange. They're just going to drop these agents off here, where they'll pretend to be students for the next few months, gathering intelligence."

"And undoubtedly attempting to infiltrate that notorious gang that's rumored to have operations at Forks High." Edward's eyes flashed with amusement. "We'll just have to make sure we—facilitate their work," he said softly. "Thank you, Greene. As always, your cooperation makes my work so much easier." The old man scowled.

The part that bothered him the most was not just the crimes. It was the loss of control over his own school, the way he had to bow to Edward, the fact that if the crimes came to light, it would be Greene, not Edward, who would go to jail.

And if what he'd heard was going to happen next week went down—

He gritted his teeth, aware that Edward, as always, was amused by his reaction.

* * *

 _Bella_

I danced along the school hallway to the beat of one of my favorite songs, humming and singing to myself.

Life was good. If this was how being in love made you feel, I could understand what all the fuss was about. I had another date with Edward tonight, and then we were going to the Halloween Ball at the end of the week. I felt like turning cartwheels down the hall.

As I passed by a courtyard window, I saw Jacob and Leah arguing and gesticulating. Whatever could they be discussing to make them so grumpy? Time to cheer them up. I ran into the courtyard.

"You're being ridiculous, Jacob," Leah was arguing. "You're only saying this now that Bella is with Edward. I've never seen her so confident or so happy."

"Edward is dangerous," Jacob retorted. "That's true even if you bury your head in the sand."

Awkward. They were talking about me. What could I say to distract them? "Wow, are you two having a lovers' spat?" I teased. "Trying to decide who's going to ask who to the Halloween Ball?"

They stepped apart, glancing away from each other. Leah's face was bright red. Jacob brushed a hand over his hair.

OK, what was going on there? Maybe it was time to turn the tables on Leah after all her matchmaking. It was funny, after all my puppy love over Jacob, now he just seemed solid and unromantic, like a very good friend, not at all like the thrill I felt whenever I thought of Edward. But maybe I could give Leah a little of that thrill. I grinned.

After a pause, Leah said, "We're just friends, Bella."

Jacob said, "I'm not even going to the Halloween Ball."

"Yeah." Leah swung her backpack over her shoulder. "I'm late for work. See you." She shuffled away. Jacob stared at her retreating back.

"Oh my god, work!" I realized I was about to be late to my bakery job, again. For some reason, I found it hard to be aware of my surroundings all the time. My mind was constantly torn away, replaying recent conversations with Edward, examining every nuance of his words in my memory, seeing his face in my mind's eye, feeling his touch on my skin.

"Bye!" I shouted as I ran off.

But even as I rushed off toward work, running so fast I was panting, I still felt exuberant. Even the thought of being chewed out by my boss didn't seem that important. What mattered was that I loved, and was loved in return.

* * *

 _Kim_

Kim crouched on the floor of the basement furnace room beside the other members of Volterra, waiting for the Captain to come down the stairs. The room echoed with taunts and sneers, but she avoided at the eyes of the scrawny kid tied to a classroom chair in front of the furnace. His arms and legs had been strapped to the chair with tie-wraps that cut into his pale flesh. She knew why the meeting had been called, and she wanted to distance herself from the unlucky captive as much as possible.

Hulking shapes of equipment of unknown vintage surrounded the room. The antique furnace glowed dimly around the iron door in its squat belly, and the reek of sour iron pervaded the air. Two bare bulbs hung from twisted wires nailed to the rafters amongst a maze of pipes, drains, and loose clusters of wire. The largest of the pipes was wrapped with insulating tape stained with decades of rust. The painted cement floor slanted downward toward the recessed drain at the low end of the room.

About twenty of the gang members stood against the walls of the room, mostly male except for three or four females. Their jeering and taunting stopped when a figure appeared on the landing and walked down the final stairs slowly and deliberately. He was not wearing his glasses, and a small smile played about his lips.

Kim waited in her customary position on the floor beside the Captain's chair. Watching Edward walk down the stairs sent a shiver through her, as it did every time she saw him.

The first time she had seen him take command of a meeting, his physical beauty had struck her like a knife. The large, expressive eyes surrounded by impossibly thick, long lashes; that deep, resonant voice that spoke so politely of torture and death; lean, sculpted torso and utterly graceful movements—between one breath and the next she had known what she wanted.

From that moment on, she had set herself to catch his attention in the most brazen way possible. She knew she had an attractive body, lithe and well endowed. She shivered as she recalled the day she had finally caught his eye. How well she remembered that night, the night he had brought her to his room in the clubhouse. She had expected him to be like all the others, the men who tore her clothes, grabbed her breasts, pressed sloppy mouths reeking of whisky or smoke to her lips, and then took her roughly, taking their pleasure eagerly and tossing her aside until the next time.

But instead he had been a gentleman. He had spoken to her politely. He asked her permission, had unbuttoned her shirt slowly, his eyes smoldering, a dark smile on his expressive face. He touched his lips sweeter than honey to hers, entered her mouth tenderly with his warm tongue. He teased her, stroked her with his long fingers until she thought she would die from the torment and wonder of it.

Sex had always been a tedious task for her, something she did to get other things she wanted, pleasurable mostly in that it finally gave her a small power over others. But that night with Edward had been a revelation.

She had been so desperate for him that she had trembled, for once in her life unable to speak, as he leaned over her, finally naked, his hair brushing her face when he lowered his mouth to hers. His body was even more impossibly gorgeous than she had imagined, his well-muscled, tanned chest like that of a god, his beautiful eyes alight with lust.

At last he had taken her, and in that moment she was lost, her body clenching in waves of agonized passion. She felt a pleasure more intense than she had dreamed possible, until at last he collapsed on her, gently seeking out her mouth again with his and kissing her again.

That night she had lost her heart to the worst man possible. She had heard all the stories whispered about Edward; she knew he had utterly no principles; that he cared for nothing and no one besides himself; at the very most he might toy with her, use her for his pleasure. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than this from life.

She knew all too well how her infatuation with a man like this would end. But she could do nothing to stop herself. She knew she would do anything for him. She would kill for him. She would die for him.

The sight of him, a glimpse of the curve of his throat, a single gesture with a graceful hand—any of these made her violently fascinated, weak and trembling at her core, all her resolve washed away in a single instant. She was helplessly, hopelessly attracted to him; she knew she would forever be drawn to his deadly beauty, that she would go to him knowing full well that it would bring her only pain and death.

She still held that one golden night in her memory, precious and unrecoverable, as the one crowning moment of her life when everything had been worthwhile, when she was not Kim Lugo, a trashy slut in a lousy neighborhood, but a princess, a treasure, taken by a king.

They had had sex again since that night, but it had never been the same as that first time. He had never again shown that gentle, caring side to her. Instead, he had been indifferent, or even worse, in a playful mood, a devilish smile dancing on his lips, as he whispered commands in her ear that she must follow regardless of the pain or cost to her.

She did everything he asked of her, obeying the least of his whims to the letter, never voicing the despair that filled her heart and mind. She knew that if she were caught, he would not care in the slightest as they took her to jail. And she knew, she thought in hopeless anguish, that she would be loyal to him even there, and would not let his name pass her lips as they sentenced her.

And now… he had let her know her part in his plans, let her know exactly what he thought of her, what was going to happen to her… and the worst of it, not even by his own hand. She could have borne it if it had been at his hands.

But no. She bowed her head. She was nothing now. Less than nothing. A tear squeezed out of her eye. All because of that girl.

She ground her teeth. She wouldn't let it go. Kim Lugo didn't just take shit. Even if it killed her, she would get her revenge.

Her eyes narrowed as it came to her. That pathetic girl wouldn't know what hit her… and neither would Edward, until it was too late.


	14. Chapter 14

_James_

James examined the small slip of paper and painfully decoded the message with his little codebook. This was the part of the job he hated. So easy to get one letter wrong and mess up the whole thing. Tongue between his teeth, a stub of a pencil in his hand, he peered at the codebook and back at the message several times.

What a waste of time. Who the hell was going to find that piece of paper anyway? Why did it need to be in code? But it was the Captain's orders that it be done this way, so that was the way it was done. James didn't really understand why. But it didn't matter.

You did it the way the Captain wanted or you didn't survive long.

Finally he was finished. "Shit," he said. "It's tonight."

It was several hours since school dismissal and it would soon be dark. The sky was overcast and it was cold enough that James's fingers were clumsy as he manipulated the stubby pencil. He and Riley Biers had been hanging out behind the school, smoking. Nobody ever came to the back lot; it was known gang territory.

Riley grimaced. "It's Wednesday. We never have to go on Wednesday. It's always Friday or the weekend."

"Stop wiping your ass, Riley. It's time for our delivery."

Riley ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. "Shut the fuck up. I'm coming."

Riley's battered old Chevy waited at the far end of the school lot. James sneered. He'd prefer to take his Harley, but they had to take the shipment in the trunk, so they needed a car. James hated being cooped up inside a metal box. Especially Riley's smelly old piece of shit, stinking of stale tobacco smoke and rancid burgers.

He sat in the passenger seat, the window rolled all the way down, drumming his fingers impatiently on the door handle as Riley coaxed the old claptrap into life.

Riley grinned evilly at him as he pulled out of the lot. "What's the problem? You look like you're in heat or something."

"Your car smells like a shithole." James popped open the glove box and wrinkled his nose at the mess inside. "I can't believe you reuse condoms, you cheap bastard."

"Hey. They're expensive, especially when you go through them as fast as I do."

James snorted and rooted through the pile. "What's this? Used toilet paper? Fuck."

"Get your fucking hands off my shit. Funny you're complaining, seeing that rathole you live in. I'd rather live in a sewer than your dingy-ass apartment."

"Shut your hole." James held up a crumpled fast-food bag. Something was written on one side and James smoothed it out. It read "Britny." He peered into the bag. "Shit. No wonder your car reeks. Half a month-old burger covered in mold."

Riley made a grab for it but James tossed it out the window. "Hey! That was my dinner!"

"You didn't even buy it. You jacked it from this chick Britny."

"You don't know shit. Maybe she's my girl."

James snorted. "Even one of your slutty hos ain't giving you a moldy burger. Bet you fished it out of a trash can."

"You're just jealous cause none of the ladies give you gifts."

"I know what kinda 'gifts' those 'ladies' give you. They got three letters, the first is 'S.'"

Riley suddenly hit the brakes and James was thrown forward in the seatbelt.

"What the fuck –" James fell silent. Up ahead a lone patrol car cruised leisurely past.

Riley slowed to within the speed limit, but the squad car didn't turn around. James returned to leaning out the window and glaring. With no more incidents, they drove through the city streets and onto a frontage road in the industrial section until they got to their destination, the parking lot of a nondescript, windowless white building with a faded sign. He pulled around to the back, past an overflowing dumpster and into a garbage-strewn lot.

James got out while Riley left the car idling. It was a routine job, but James kept a sharp eye out for anyone who might be following them or loitering around. The lot was deserted. At the back door, he pressed the button and waited, making sure his face was visible to the peephole in the center of the scuffed, dented door.

It only took a few minutes before the door was opened by a thin, pasty-faced kid holding what looked like a laundry bag. James didn't bother with greetings. He hoisted the bag onto his shoulders. The door closed behind him with a slam.

Riley already had the trunk open and waiting. James tossed the heavy bag in.

Then they were back on the road heading to their next stop. James leaned out the open window again. It hadn't taken him long to figure out who lived in the apartment they'd been using. But what was confusing was why. What kind of game was Edward playing?

Edward thought of people only as tools to be used for his own purposes. Hell, the only reason the gang existed was to serve Edward Cullen's ambitions. It bothered James sometimes. In the past he had always shrugged it off. What else could someone like him do? Besides, he had once thought it was too late. He had thrown in his lot with Edward, and no one left his service alive. Now, though, if—when—his plans came to fruition, everything would change.

He had to admit he had done well for himself since he joined the gang. It had enabled him to get out of a number of scrapes. Edward made sure the gang members took care of one another, and his connections with the cops and school administration guaranteed that, if caught, James always got away with a slap on the wrist at worst. And the financial rewards were far better than he could get with a regular job.

But it was getting far too difficult to continue to obey Edward's every whim.

Riley parked a block away from their destination. The two of them scanned up and down the street; there were no pedestrians visible. James hoisted the laundry bag across his shoulders. They walked across the parking lot and overgrown side yard of a beat-up old four-story apartment building. Their target was behind it on the next block.

Sidling into the back yard of the other apartment, they scanned once more for passersby. James pulled out a key and slipped it into the lock. Easing the door open, he checked the interior of the hallway. Finding it clear, he nodded to Riley, who hoisted the white bag up onto his shoulder and the two entered the building.

After the door to their target apartment shut behind them, they relaxed a little. The place was unoccupied as it always was during the times listed on the coded messages.

The apartment was shabby and dingy, not much better than James's own home in terms of condition. But it was significantly cleaner than the dump where he, his three younger half-brothers and two half-sisters crashed with their mom. She never bothered to clean up after her binges on drugs or liquor, so the place was a mess. But it had been the only roof over his head until he joined Volterra and had instantly taken a big step upwards in street cred, as well as gaining access to the gang clubhouse for nights when the screaming and stink became unbearable.

Riley had already dumped the bag open in front of the oddly out-of-place huge stuffed blue dog in the corner of the living room. He flipped the dog around and unzipped the back, then rooted around in the stuffing. He emerged with a small packet, showed it to James and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.

The two of them took several small, soft-sided packages wrapped up in butcher paper and twine out of the bigger cloth bag and buried them deep within the stuffed dog. When the bag was empty, James rolled it up and shoved it into the dog as well. Riley adjusted the stuffing to cover the new objects within the dog, and zipped up the back. The two of them replaced the animal in its corner. James gave the apartment a once-over to make sure they were leaving it as they had found it. Then they silently slipped out the door and down the hall.

As they stepped out the back door, a shadow emerged from the bushes and confronted them.


	15. Chapter 15

_Jacob_

"What are you two assholes doing hanging around Bella's apartment?" Jacob came forward into the light cast by the fixture by the door, his fists at the ready.

Riley and James exchanged a glance. "Go," said James. "I'll take care of this fuckwad." Riley gave a brief nod and took off running.

Jacob ignored him, focusing on James. "I said, what are you doing in Bella's building?"

"Who?" asked James, grinning.

Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Don't give me that crap. I saw you hanging around her a couple of weeks ago. And I've seen you here before. Tell me what you're doing or I'll pound your face in."

"You and who else?" sneered James. He made a show of glancing around the street, his grin mocking. "I'll wipe the ground with your fucking ass."

"Tell me what you're trying to do to Bella first."

James tried a blank look. "Dunno who the fuck you're talking about. Riley's got a friend in this building. We were visiting him, that's all."

Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Sure he does."

"It don't matter, cause I'm gonna fucking kill you." With the speed of a cobra striking, James darted forward and led off with a hard, fast uppercut.

Jacob blocked and threw a roundhouse punch at James's jaw. "Ha! I'd like to see you try!" he huffed. He threw a flurry of punches, fast and furious and hard.

James, panting, danced out of reach, feinting, blocking, and then returning his own barrage of blows and kicks. Jacob felt rage swelling, the rage that had been building up ever since he heard about Bella, since he had watched Kevin slowly recover in his father's clinic, since he had heard about the new drug—that was the rage he funneled into his fists, attacking James with everything he had. His fury was like a creature deep within him that was fueled by berserker rage. He pounded on James, crushing him to the ground with his fists, moving faster and harder than ever before. He might not be able to win back Bella, but he could protect all the innocents on the street from Volterra and from James here and now.

James fell to the ground, limp. Even though he had ceased fighting, Jacob continued beating him, storming in fury. He couldn't stop smashing his fists into the bastard's face and gut.

It wasn't until he noticed James's head lolling at a crazy angle that he halted, breathing heavily. It was as though the fury had been turned off like a spigot. Jacob dropped to his knees and closed his eyes, wondering what he had become. He was acting like a crazy monster, beating an unconscious man. He had always thought of himself as a fair fighter, not someone who would attack someone already down. He had become unhinged. Why?

He heard a grunt and opened his eyes. James had dragged himself to his feet, blood pouring out of his nose, clothes torn, one arm hanging limp. His teeth were bared, and in his hand he held a wicked-looking knife.

"You bastard," James snarled. "I'm gonna nail your ass for good." He raised the knife.

Jacob knew he should defend himself, but something in him seemed to have snapped. He felt dizzy, weak. He just sat on the ground, waiting for James to stab him.

There was a blur of movement, almost too fast for him to see. A tiny, dark-haired girl appeared in front of him, kicked the knife out of James's hand, and took the much bigger kid in a headlock before either of them could move. The girl couldn't have been more than four and a half feet tall. She had black hair in a pixie cut, black velvet eyes, and despite the pink Hello Kitty shirt she was wearing, the fiercest expression Jacob had ever seen on a human being before.

"All right, what's going on here?" her voice rang out.

Jacob could only stare, dazed, at this apparition. "Who are you?"

She tightened her grip on James to keep him immobilized. "Alice Brandon, senior transfer student. I've seen you around school. Pleased to meet you."

Jacob couldn't help laughing. It was all so incongruous. "I'm Jacob Black, and that jackass you're holding is James Witherdale."

James glared. "Get the fuck off me, bitch."

Alice shook her head. "Not until I know why you were coming at this guy with a knife. Looked like you were about to kill him."

James struggled ferociously in Alice's grip for another few seconds, then subsided, wheezing. "That shithead tried to kill me."

"Is that true?" Alice asked Jacob.

"Yeah. But he deserved it. I caught him breaking and entering."

"No way, you liar," shouted James. "Check the fucking apartment for all I care."

Alice's nostrils flared. "I'll give you each a chance to tell your story." She tightened her hold on James. "If I let you go, will you promise to talk quietly?"

The muscles in James's neck tensed. "Yeah," he muttered.

Alice released her headlock. James sprang free and jumped backwards, dropping into a crouch, head flipping back and forth between Alice and Jacob.

"Now," she said, hands on her hips, "what's going on here?"

"Dumb idea, letting me go, bitch. Matter of fact," James said, a nasty grin appearing on his battered face, "I'm gonna take your fucking ass down hard."

A siren snarled off in the distance, coming closer, and James cursed. All at once, he spun and took off, rounding the corner and disappearing.

Jacob and Alice were left standing in the empty yard, glaring at each other.

Jacob was the first to recover. He straightened and offered his hand with a smile. "Wow. Where'd you learn moves like that? I don't think I've ever seen such a great kick." He absently rubbed the back of his head. It was wet. When he pulled his hand back, it was stained red.

"You're bleeding," Alice said. "We better get you to a hospital."

"As it happens," said Jacob with a grin, "I was just going there. Going home, that is."

In an examination room of the Black Free Clinic, Alice sat on a folding chair while Dr. Black bandaged Jacob's injuries. He winced as his father daubed antiseptic on another one of his wounds.

His father said cheerfully, "I told you to stay away from James."

Jacob glowered.

"If you hadn't come and saved my son's butt, I might have an even bigger mess to clean up." Dr. Black nodded at Alice. "Did you really kick a knife out of that guy's hand?"

Alice shrugged. "Lucky shot."

"Lucky my ass," said Jacob. "It was a great move. Where'd you learn it?"

Her eyes shifted to the ceiling. "Here and there. I've studied martial arts for a while."

"Hmm." Dr. Black shot a piercing glance at her but continued to work on Jacob's injuries. "How old are you?"

"I'm a senior," said Alice. She changed the subject. "Did you say that kid was a gang member?"

"Yeah," said Jacob. "He's a member of Volterra. You've heard of them, right?"

"I just transferred in today. I don't know much about Forks."

"They're the biggest gang in the school. That asshole is responsible for more shit than any ten average criminals. Drugs, robbery, you name it."

She aimed a brilliant, fascinated smile at him. Jacob had never seen anyone like her before, and he found a goofy grin spreading across his face. The fact that she was half his size but packed a wallop bigger than guys three times bigger than her was just another thing that made her intriguing. "Anything else you wanna know?" he asked.

* * *

 _Bella_

Edward deftly maneuvered the little car into a halfway-legal parking spot just a bit too close to a fire hydrant. When I pointed it out to him, he only smiled.

"Don't worry about it. There's no one writing tickets on this street at this time of night."

He opened the car door and helped me out. It was a cold, crisp late October night, and a crescent moon was overseeing fitful wisps of clouds. The night air smelled like winter, and I shivered. Edward draped a warm arm around me and hugged me close. He smelled like roasted chestnuts fresh off the bonfire, and I inhaled deeply as he pressed me into his shoulder. His fingers tangled in my hair and left fiery trails over the back of my neck. I lifted my face up to his. Then his lips connected with mine, my eyes closed and my body roared like a furnace, vanquishing the chill of the night.

At my apartment door, I paused on the threshold and sniffed deeply several times. Something was very wrong.

"What is it?" Edward asked.

I tiptoed to the hall closet door and flung it open. "Someone's been in my apartment!" I cried, twisting my head from side to side and sniffing some more.

"What makes you think that?"

"I can smell them," I said, wrinkling my nose.

Edward kissed me on the tip of my nose. "You're so cute when you do that. Are you a bloodhound? What makes you think you can smell someone's trail?" He went to the living room window and checked behind the curtains. "No broken glass, no signs of forced entry. I don't think you have to worry." He poked his head in the bedroom. "Nothing here either."

"I don't know. This guy smells like sweat and some kind of cheap cologne. What's more, I've smelled that combination before. Here in the apartment, once before, and—" I trailed off. "I know I've smelled it somewhere else, but I can't remember where." I squinted. "Can't you smell it?"

Obligingly, he sniffed, but shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't smell anything unusual." Then a lazy smile crossed his face and he teased, "Except for that wasabi and cumin bean dip you made yesterday."

I made a face at him. "Don't be silly, Edward. I can't smell that one at all anymore."

He laughed and playfully took my face in his hands. "Can you smell me?" He brushed his lips over my nose and kissed me again, trailing across my cheek and down my throat. I closed my eyes and almost forgot to breathe.

Gasping, I put my hands on his chest to push him away. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Bella," he said, taking both my hands in his and steering me to sit down on the couch, "let's look at the evidence. Are there any signs of forced entry? Is anything missing?"

"That doesn't matter!" I cried. "Why don't you believe me?"

He leaned back on the couch and ran his hands through his hair. "I—" he said and then stopped. His confident smile faded. Wrinkles gathered on his forehead and he stared at me, the skin around his eyes bunching.

I'd never seen him look like that. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry." He grimaced. "I think I pulled a muscle at the gym today." His face smoothed out and his voice gentled. "I wanted to say I do believe you. I'm sorry for doubting you."

I reached up and hugged him, but he still seemed distracted. "I don't see anything missing," I said.

Charlie's pictures were undisturbed, and they were of most value to me. I glanced around one more time, but before I could say anything, Edward's hands went to either side of my head and the heat of them was comforting. "So it's settled then. Let's not talk about this anymore," he murmured. "I have a better use for that beautiful mouth of yours." He fisted his hands in my hair, tilting the bones of my jaw back with his thumbs, skimming my mouth with his lips over and over until the most delicate areas of my skin quivered and sparks of pleasure fired in my core. I arched into his kiss, straining to meet his lips and tongue, and this time, I forgot everything as the world went away.

* * *

 _Edward_

Driving away from Bella's apartment, Edward rubbed the back of his neck. He felt extremely strange. And that in itself was perplexing, that he would articulate to himself the word "feel." He hadn't allowed himself to feel for years. Emotion got in the way of doing what needed to be done. Even a moment of weakness could be fatal. It almost had been, in the early days, when he had hesitated at the wrong time, that one night. Afterwards, as he had staggered away, darting and weaving from shadow to shadow, he had sworn to himself: never again.

But no. This was worse than simple emotion. He felt... distress. It was becoming distasteful to lie to Bella, to use her the way he used everyone around him.

He had never felt this way before.

How could one woman attract him so? She was so different from everyone he had known, unbelievably clueless and innocent. How could she have lived so long and remained so untouched? It made him want to touch her all over, to lay his tracks through fresh-fallen snow. He wanted to explore that unblemished skin, pale beneath his fingers, softer than silk against his mouth.

Foolish.

She was foolish.

She was beautiful.

He wanted her, but not just as a conquest. He wanted something more. Much more.

But for only the second time in his life, Edward Cullen had no idea how to get what he wanted.


	16. Chapter 16

_Jacob_

Jacob scowled as the teacher finished introducing the new kid, Jasper somebody, to the class. Chains dangled over his muscle shirt, and a gold grill winked on a front tooth. He wore a mean glower under heavy brows and close-set beady eyes. As Jasper walked to his seat, his face no longer visible to the teacher, he glared threateningly at the other kids in the row. Just the kind of loser they needed more of at Forks High.

Jasper passed James on his way to a seat in the back row, taking time to eyeball him and the fading bruises on his face. Jacob's hands tightened into fists. If the new kid gave him any trouble, he'd smash his mug in. Just like he had with James.

There had been more cases of Rapture addiction and overdose at the clinic the past weekend. The first victim, Kevin, was still acting like a child and had needed to be restrained that morning. The drug was sweeping the neighborhood, fueling a rise in crimes from petty theft to armed robbery.

His dad had been slumped over the breakfast table, guzzling down another cup of coffee, after being up all night. "The absolute worst aspect of this drug is how fast it addicts you. Some of these kids thought they would try it just once, just for fun." His dad shook his head. "That's all it takes."

Jacob had broken a saucer in the sink when he slammed it down too hard. He was certain James was involved. What would it take to prove it?

He could at least make sure that James and his friends were so busy nursing their injuries that they couldn't do as much damage on the streets. It wasn't as if he had anything else he'd rather do. His glance passed over Bella, sitting next to the window, but did not settle on her. He tasted bile in his mouth.

The bell rang, their teacher scurried out the door, and Jacob stuffed his books into his backpack. As he strode up the aisle, he tripped over James's suddenly outstretched leg. In a flash, Jacob spun and smashed his fist into the jerk's jaw. James surged out of his seat and swung a fist at him, but Jacob blocked it with manic glee.

He was hyped to really lay into the bastard when his arms were gripped from behind. As he shouted and struggled, James threw a punch at him, but whoever was holding his arms sidestepped and shoved Jacob out of range.

"Hey. What's going on? You're gonna kill him!" It was the new kid, Jasper.

"What's the big idea?" shouted Jacob, twisting furiously out of his hold. What the hell was the guy trying to do, interfering with his righteous fight with James? James threw a punch at Jacob, but he ducked, and the punch struck Jasper square in the jaw. Jasper growled and decked James with a single, powerful blow, knocking him all the way into the desk across the aisle. James struggled back up, fuming. Several students leaped out of the way while others cheered.

The door opened and one of the teachers peered in. "What's going on here?"

The three brawlers immediately fell silent and avoided each other's eyes.

"Who was fighting? I got a report of fighting in the classroom." The teacher curled his lip. "Can anyone explain what happened?"

There was no response. The teacher glared at the three of them. "If I hear anything more about you fighting in the classroom again, you're all going to be suspended. Now get to your next class."

Jacob grabbed his backpack and slammed out of the room, his frustration unabated. As he left, Bella held out a hand and said, "Jacob," but he ignored her and kept moving. Dealing with Bella was the last thing he wanted right now.

* * *

 _Lonnie_

Lonnie grumbled to himself as he slunk through the bushes on the way to his target. This was a boring and stupid job. Hadn't he done enough of these to demonstrate how skillful and clever he was? When was he going to be given a chance to earn real money? He gave a quick glance to left and right. The streets were quiet in the thin early afternoon sunlight. Everyone else was in school, getting ready for the next operation, but he had been sent out here alone.

"It's a fucking easy job," James had told him, "but you gotta obey orders exactly, and make sure no one sees you."

"I got it, I got it," Lonnie said. "But why ain't you doing it?"

James's eyes narrowed. "None of your goddamn business. Now get on it. It's gotta be done by 3 today."

So Lonnie had snuck out of school and headed to the address he was given. He crouched under the bushes, checking once again no one was around.

There was a rustle nearby and Lonnie held his breath, hand moving to the knife at his belt. Could someone have followed him? He peered into the shadows behind the leaves surrounding him, caught a glimpse of movement, and froze.

"Lonnie!" came a whispered voice from behind a particularly leafy cluster of branches. "Lonnie, is that you?" A figure squeezed out from under a branch and sidled up to him, staying behind the cover of the hedge.

"Kim?" asked Lonnie, his mouth falling open. "What you doing here?" He immediately straightened and threw his shoulders back. Kim was super hot, and hung out with all the top-ranking members of Volterra. Way out of his league. He hadn't thought she even knew his name.

She came up to him, very close, her skin dappled by shadow as she shifted under the hedge. She smiled and a quiver went through his body. She had a killer smile. Not to mention boobs that didn't quit. "Hey Lonnie, James told me to catch up with you and give you some new orders."

"Oh yeah?" asked Lonnie, preening a little. Maybe this job wasn't so bad if someone like Kim got sent after him.

Kim drew her shoulders together so the valley between her breasts deepened. "James said to tell you that girl's not under our protection anymore. So if you want to trash her apartment, have some fun, go ahead."

Lonnie tore his eyes away from Kim's cleavage. "Huh? Orders were not to touch anything."

Kim frowned. "Things have changed. Besides, why do you care? You know what I heard her say, last time she was with the Captain?"

"What?"

She leaned forward. "She tried to get him to stop moving slip. Said she was tired of all the 'illegal' crap he was doing." Her fingers made air quotes around the word and her lips twisted.

Lonnie snorted. "No fucking shit?"

"Biggest haul we've ever made, and she's fucking trying to get us to give up all that cash. Pinching off _your_ cut."

"What the fuck she up to?"

"Dumbass bitch," Kim spat. "Anyway, that's the word. I gotta go." She slithered through the branches and was gone.

Lonnie returned to his task. He wasn't stupid enough to believe everything Kim said. He didn't dare trash the apartment or do anything obvious. The orders said to clean everything out, leave it all looking untouched. But maybe, he thought, as he hesitated in the quiet living room after emptying the contents of the stuffed blue dog into his trash bag, he could get even. Make that girl pay.

He hefted the trash bag, looked around one more time. The tidy kitchen caught his eye. Perfect.

Chuckling to himself, he opened a kitchen cupboard, pulled out a packet of white powder and carefully emptied it into the tin marked "Sugar."


	17. Chapter 17

_Alice_

As the first bell rang, Alice ran up the stairs to the third floor and took a left down one of the older corridors. She checked up and down the hall. No one in sight. She unlocked the unmarked wooden door at the end of the hall and slipped inside. It was a windowless supply closet, but it was the private space she had requested from the principal.

It had been an eye-opening but frustrating couple of days. She had learned a great deal about rumored gang operations at Forks High, especially the infamous Volterra, but hadn't found any firm evidence.

Principal Greene had given her names of suspected gang members and delinquents. Her initial stakeout of one of those students, one of the most notorious fighters in the school, Jacob Black, had not led anywhere.

But Jacob had volunteered a great deal of innuendo and rumor about Volterra's operations, although again, there were no solid facts, and she still had no clue if any of it was true. It was exceedingly frustrating. Her working theory had placed him as a member, but her instincts told her he wasn't. She still planned to get closer to Jacob on the off chance she was wrong, but it was probably a dead end.

A key rattled in the lock and Jasper Hale appeared. The tattoos on his arms rippled as he closed the door.

"Hey. What's up?" Alice asked. "Any leads?"

"Not much, but I did manage to make contact with Jacob Black and James Witherdale." Jasper rubbed his jaw. "A couple of hot-headed assholes with short fuses."

"Got anything on them?"

"Naw. It's surprising how tight-lipped everyone in this school is about that gang. Mention the name, and everybody looks away and realizes they have something else to do."

"Yeah." Alice tugged at the Hello Kitty necklace around her throat. "Black's the only one I've been able to get to open up, and he's got nothing but rumors."

"This is the tightest I've ever seen a school sealed up. Which makes me think we've got something here. The entire student body's scared—no, terrified—of Volterra."

There was a sharp meow from behind a stack of boxes at the back of the room. Alice immediately cleared her throat.

Jasper groaned. "Don't tell me you 'rescued' another stray cat, Alice. That's completely unprofessional, in the middle of an operation."

"I didn't have any choice! She was so thin." She sent him a half-pleading, half-threatening glance.

"I thought I smelled tuna fish. You're gonna blow our cover, if Principal Greene finds out you're violating school rules about allowing animals into the building. Maybe you'll even get expelled from high school." He winked.

"Shut up," Alice snapped. "Let's get back to work."

"OK." He sat on a half-open box of filler paper. "I gathered some info on the gang structure, and we should plan our next steps." He tossed her a small notebook. "The top-ranking members of the gang are called the Guard. Members are initiated into the gang by its leader, who's known as the Captain."

"Have you found out if the Captain is a student or an adult?" interrupted Alice.

"Rumor says he's a student, but shit, the extent of his reported activities scares me. He's gotta be an adult. A student would've been awfully young when the gang first appeared." He squinted and scratched his head. "There's a lot of talk about Rapture, and how fast it's spreading. Rumor says that Volterra is controlling the distribution, but other rumors say that they don't have the organization to peddle hard drugs." He shook his head. "I don't believe it. The gang actually has what you might call PR agents spreading disinformation."

"Kind of sophisticated for a high school gang."

"Makes me think there are adults behind it. I've sent a request for a check of departmental records of organized crime in this neighborhood to see if I can scope something out."

"Heard anything?"

"Not yet. The department's understaffed. We're down two officers in our division. But Rapture's spreading faster than expected, so there was no way we could've just sat back on this one." He scratched under his muscle shirt. "We're in a precarious spot. This Captain, whoever he is, is extremely well-organized, and from our intelligence, highly dangerous."

* * *

 _Edward_

In another room at the opposite end of the school, Edward sat behind a desk, wearing headphones, listening to the two cops' conversation. Laurent and Emmett sat in front of the desk, waiting for him to finish. The corners of his mouth tilted upward slightly as Jasper pronounced him "highly dangerous." He removed the headset and placed it on the desk.

"Laurent. Perfect placement with the new bugs," he said. "Signal strength is five by five. And it looks like they really are untraceable."

Laurent's voice was stern. "Good. That means Greene didn't try to double-cross us and give us the wrong room."

"He doesn't dare defy us at this point." Edward leaned back in his chair. "No chance of it."

Emmett grinned. "He belongs to you completely, Captain. Ain't that fine?" He scratched an ear. "But how long are you gonna let these cops run loose? What if they discover something and report back before we get a chance to stop them?"

Edward shrugged. "They won't discover anything we don't give them. But I think it's time to spring our little trap." He rested his chin on his knuckles. "Laurent, begin executing the plan I discussed with you. Don't forget the changes I told you about. I want it to come to fruition on the night of the Halloween Ball."

Laurent nodded. "I'm on it."

"Captain?" Emmett rubbed the back of his neck. "You've been keeping everybody busy lately with all these sudden changes to our operations. Might I ask if—"

"It's your job to keep everyone in line, Emmett." Edward's voice was cold. "My orders are to be obeyed without question. Is that clear?"

Emmett dropped his eyes. "Of course."

"And do we have any preliminary reports on profits from the new operation?"

"I'll have those ready for you by tonight," Laurent said. "Looks like profits are up by over 300%."

"Excellent. And Emmett—" Edward stretched his arms above his head. "Make contact with Alice Brandon as we discussed."

They nodded and rose. As he and Laurent reached the door, Edward spoke again. "One more thing, Emmett. I want you to bring Kim Lugo here at once."

Emmett raised his eyebrows. "What did the bitch do now?"

Edward gave him a level stare.

"Sorry," Emmett said, lifting his hands. "I'll get her right away."

The two left the room. Edward shifted in his chair and slid a tablet computer out of the desk but did not turn it on immediately.

It was irritating to have to deal with Kim, but necessary. His network of informants had been buzzing even more than usual lately.

His mind circled back, as it so often did these days, to Bella, with her flood of thick auburn hair, her pale skin and extravagant curves, her hesitant and soft voice that could turn to steel at unexpected moments. Simply thinking about her felt like traveling in unknown territory.

He had been putting her in danger.

Thoughtlessly.

It had never mattered to him before if he put any of his chess pieces at risk. If they survived, they became stronger. He had helped them to grow. If they failed—well, there were always others to lure in and put to use.

He had learned on that long-ago day that it was a terrible weakness to care for another living being, that it brought nothing but unbearable pain. He had sworn he would never make that mistake again.

But now… all of a sudden, it occurred to him that a human life might be irreplaceable.

* * *

 _Bella_

Leah grabbed my arm. "What do you mean, you're not going to the Halloween Ball in costume? You have to!"

I shook my head. "Leah, you know my family doesn't celebrate Halloween. I've never worn a costume in my life. I'm only going this year because, well, you know."

"Are you serious?" Jessica asked. "It's not like it's a religious event. Besides, isn't your mom out of town?"

I squirmed, feeling uncomfortable. How could I tell them it was against one of my mother's Rules? And although I didn't really believe in those rules anymore, it's hard to get away from ideas that have been beat into your head all your life. "The whole Halloween thing is kind of creepy, isn't it? All those skulls and witches and bad things. Reminders of death."

Leah and Jessica exchanged a glance.

And hell, I thought but didn't say. I didn't believe in hell any more, but sometimes Halloween gave me nightmares. I remembered the revival tent my mother had taken me to when I was just a little girl.

"Imagine," the preacher had bellowed, his amplified voice echoing across the tent. "Have you ever brought your hand a little too close to a fire? You remember how it burned, how your skin heated up and turned red, maybe even blistered. Maybe you put some ointment on it but it still hurt. The painful scalding seemed to linger inside your hand long after the fire was gone.

"Now imagine the heat of the hottest bonfire you can think of. Then imagine yourself in the center of that fire, not only your hand but your entire body, your skin bubbling and peeling off your flesh. Now imagine that ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times worse.

"Could you stay in that fire for an hour? For a year? If you commit a sin, disobey God, _that_ is what you are dooming yourself to.

"Hell. Yes, you will go to hell. You will roast in hellfire, not for a year, not for a thousand years, but for eternity. Eternity! That's forever, my friends. In the most vicious, corroding, burning pain you could ever possibly imagine.

"That is what you are sentencing yourself to! So repent! Turn to God! Now, before it's too late!"

I shuddered, remembering my skin blistering and bubbling as my flesh roasted in the fire. I put my hands behind my back. It had taken a long time for that one to heal and you could still see some of the scars.

Jessica was still chattering about how much fun it was to dress up.

Leah was peering closely at me. "Are you okay, Bella?"

I swayed, then suddenly felt angry. It was time I stopped letting my mother's rules dictate my life. I was different now. I was an adult.

"I'll do it," I announced.

"You'll go in costume?" Jessica asked.

"Yeah. Edward said it was up to me whether or not we dress up." Feeling reckless, I turned to Leah. "What should we go as? What's a typical Halloween thing we could dress up as?"

Warm arms slipped around me from behind.

"Edward!" I twisted around to return his hug. "We were just talking about costumes for the Halloween Ball. Want to dress up?"

A smile spread across his face. "I'd love to. Got any ideas?"

Jessica jumped up and down. "Ooh, I have the perfect costume idea for you two!" She elbowed Leah in the ribs. "Want to get together and do some sewing at my place today?" She whispered in Leah's ear and both girls doubled over in laughter.

I ignored them and bent to pick up some books from the bottom of my locker. "Oh, Edward—are you free after school today? I wanted to show you something."

"I'm sorry. I'm helping one of the teachers tutor elementary school kids this afternoon."

Leah shook her head, still grinning. "Wow, Edward, I don't see how you get all your homework done with all the volunteer work you do."

"I enjoy helping others. And as you probably know, it doesn't hurt to have plenty of charity work on your college applications to compete with all those private school kids." With a squeeze of my hand and a wave, he headed off down the hall.

Leah hugged herself, watching Edward disappear down the corridor. "You sure got lucky, Bella. Edward seems too good to be true."


	18. Chapter 18

_James_

James watched Edward descend the steps to the basement. The furnace cast a dull reddish glow over the gang members' faces, outlining them in shadows. Edward paused on the final landing, and his gaze passed over them neutrally. Their faces were all lifted, like plants to the sun, with varying expressions of admiration, fear, or sullenness.

James's nostrils pinched together. The bastard knew he cut a striking figure on the stairs. He wore designer jeans and a black shirt unbuttoned at the throat, moving with poise across the room as though unaware of all the eyes on him. In an alcove at the end of the room a large black armchair was placed on an elevated platform, and Edward eased himself into it, folding his long limbs with effortless grace.

At his motion Kim rose from the floor at his feet. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back, eyes heavily made up. She was wearing an extremely skimpy halter top and tight shorts that exposed a great deal of her soft flesh and generous breasts.

Underneath the makeup, her face was pale and her forehead creased. She pasted a weak attempt at a seductive smile on her lips and tried to slide onto Edward's lap.

Edward had sometimes allowed this behavior, as it added to his image to have a beautiful woman engaging in abject sexual submissiveness in full view of everyone. But today, he appeared indifferent—no, angry. He disentangled her arms from his neck none too gently.

"Kim. Off," he commanded coldly.

She instantly let go and slid off his lap. "I'm sorry, Captain." She crept to the side of the room, where she hunched her shoulders and twisted shaking hands together. She looked like a condemned prisoner waiting to be sentenced, and James wondered for a moment what crime she could possibly have committed to put her in such a state.

The others in the room shifted restlessly. Edward reclined in his seat and raised one finger. Two burly kids walked to the back and hauled in a chair that they set down before Edward. A thin, pasty-faced boy had been strapped to the chair, and he lifted his head, staring at Edward with defiance mingled with terror.

James sucked in his breath; it was Lonnie. He wondered how the kid could have made a mistake big enough to land him on Edward's shit list so soon after joining the gang. He almost felt sorry for the poor kid. Soon all that defiance would be gone.

"Lonnie," Edward said softly. "You disobeyed my direct orders. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The boy tossed tangled brown hair back from his face. "Lies. All lies, Captain. They were spread by my enemies—" He glared at Kim where she crouched against the wall. "I would never have gone against your orders."

"Really?" Edward asked. "Laurent, tell them what you found."

James noted a slight tightening of Edward's fingers, and realized that Edward was uncharacteristically furious. As usual, none of his emotion showed on his face. What had Lonnie done? And how was Kim connected?

Laurent stepped forward, dreads swinging against his chest. "You scum," he spat. "You were trusted with a sensitive delivery of a shipment of Rapture. Instead of doing your job, you stole from us. One packet was found to be missing. On top of that, you endangered someone we had a contract to protect."

Lonnie fidgeted. His eyes dropped.

"Captain," he whispered. "Please, you have to understand, there's gotta be a mistake…" His voice trailed off into a hopeless whimper.

Edward stood and paced towards the squirming captive. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" His lip curled. "I had to personally retrieve the stolen product. And clean up your mess. Really, Lonnie, sugar?" He shook his head slowly. "How unimaginative."

Lonnie swallowed and sweat slid down his forehead.

"Normally," Edward said, "your disloyalty would be punishable by death. But I have something in mind that is far worse than an easy death." He stopped in front of the boy, who lifted his eyes to him in fear and rising alarm.

Edward lifted his left hand, and the assembled watchers saw that he held a syringe. He lifted it point upwards and lightly squeezed it so one drop of clear liquid oozed from the tip.

"Do you know what this is, Lonnie?"

There was utter silence in the room. Lonnie shook his head, chin trembling.

"Rapture," Edward murmured. "The ultimate drug. Once you get started on it, there's no turning back." His voice was low and intense. "You are consumed by desire for it from the moment you get up in the morning till the minute you go to bed at night." His voice dropped even lower. "You become a slave to the drug. Or… to the person who controls its supply."

Edward glanced around at the silent group of watchers. "You may be interested to know that we now control the entire supply of Rapture to this city. I'm sure you know the kind of power that gives us."

Lonnie licked his lips. Edward's right hand came up and James saw that he held a knife. With a lightning-fast movement, he spun it and slashed downward and to the left across Lonnie's neck and shoulder.

The boy gasped. He hadn't even had time to flinch. James watched impassively. He had frequently seen demonstrations of Edward's inhumanly fast reflexes. All the Guard knew never to get suckered into a knife fight with him. He could cut you before you even knew he had moved. But this must have been the first time this kid had seen it. Lonnie peered down at his chest, breathing heavily, no doubt expecting to see Edward's knife buried in his heart.

But all Edward had done was slice his clothing. A piece of his shirt fell to the ground, exposing his right shoulder. A thin red line slashed his skin, oozing small drops of bright red blood. Edward leaned in and with another one of those lightning-fast moves brought his left hand, still holding the syringe, to the boy's neck. Another second and he had injected the full dose into one of his veins.

The boy stiffened as the drug hit him, eyes rolling back in his head. Edward watched dispassionately as the drug took effect. Lonnie's face relaxed with pleasure and he slumped in his bonds. His eyes opened, hazy and languid.

He laughed. "This—is punishment? I've never felt better in my life." He threw his head back with a brash glare that encompassed everyone in the room.

Edward tossed the syringe casually on the floor. "You say that now, my friend, but wait until your supply is cut off and your only opportunity for more is in my hands." At his expression, James could not hold back a shudder.

"Your body, heart, and soul now belong to me," Edward whispered. "I have been merciful and allowed you to live—this time. But should you, in the future, disobey the least of my commands, I shall make sure you endure agony beyond the fires of hell."

James shifted from foot to foot, avoiding looking at Lonnie. He jolted when he heard his name. "James," Edward ordered, "take our prisoner back to his cell for the next few days. Make sure he gets regular doses for three days. Then—" He waved a hand. "Withhold it for two."

"Yes, Captain," said James. He jerked his head at two kids in the back of the room. They hoisted the chair with its captive, now slumped with his eyes closed, writhing in pleasure, no longer aware of his surroundings or his fate.

It was impressive that the stuff could make him completely unafraid. Maybe taking just a small amount could be useful, if James wanted to hide something from Edward. He'd just have to be careful not to get addicted. He could skim a tiny bit off the bricks he handled. No one would notice since he, unlike Lonnie, knew enough to alter the records before they went to Laurent.

Yes. It could work.

When James came back after locking a nearly comatose Lonnie into the tiny basement room, Edward was settling himself back into his armchair. James could smell the nervous sweat from many of the gang members around the room. Obviously Edward had been twisting the psychological knife while he was gone, most likely to amuse himself.

"Now then," Edward said, laying an arm across the back of the chair, "What is our next order of business?"

Laurent, standing at his side, answered immediately. "The promotion of Jackson Irby."

"Very well," said Edward. "Stand forth, Jackson."

A hulking guy with a thin ponytail and bushy sideburns, multicolored tattoos twining all over his beefy arms, lumbered forward from one of the walls and stood before Edward, who coolly looked him up and down.

Poor fucker, thought James. He doesn't know what he's getting into. He remembered his own entry into Volterra. How desperate he had been, first to gain membership in the gang itself, then to climb the ranks to become one of the Captain's hand-picked Guard. He had craved the status and power that came with membership and rank in such a powerful gang.

It had only been later that he had realized the price he had to pay.

"Who was responsible for Jackson's promotion?" Edward asked.

"I was." Laurent stepped forward.

"Laurent," Edward said, "tell us what Jackson has accomplished."

"We went to hijack a shipment from Mexico being delivered to 47th Street. We got intel the deal was going down in a public park. Jackson's job was to stand guard and kill anyone who might be a threat."

Edward leaned forward. "And how did he perform?"

"We were successful, and Jackson's performance met expectations. There were some minor problems but Jackson took care of them. Here's the security video." Laurent slipped the disc into a player and a small screen at the other end of the room flared with light.

They all watched as Jackson slashed a man and left his body on the ground as others ran for their lives. Flashing lights appeared in the distance and the video cut off.

Edward nodded with satisfaction. Jackson had hurt, perhaps killed a man on the orders of Volterra, and the evidence was now in Edward's hands. Jackson now belonged to him. James scowled.

But Edward had spotted James's expression. He sat up and gazed at him. "James," he said in his deceptively gentle voice, "is there a problem?"

Panic tightened James's chest. "No, no, no problem at all," he blustered.

Edward gazed at him for another long moment, searching his face. Then a tiny smirk flitted across his lips and vanished. "I see." To Laurent, he said. "Is that all?"

"Yes, Captain, unless you have any other questions."

"No. I'm satisfied with how you carried out your assignment."

Laurent nodded. "Thank you, Captain."

James gritted his teeth at Laurent's obsequiousness but said nothing out loud. He knew he had had a narrow escape from punishment. Edward must surely know he was entertaining disloyal thoughts. But hopefully he just put it down to James's inability to keep his emotions from showing on his face, and wouldn't guess that he was planning something more than passive resistance.

Now, if James had a way of suppressing those emotions… who knew how far he could go? He fingered the baggie in his jeans.

Edward surely must not suspect yet, otherwise why would he let James remain unpunished? But who knew how long that would last? Edward claimed to be able to root out betrayal before it had a chance to flourish—and crush it ruthlessly in full view of the other members. James was at risk, big risk, if he continued with his plans. If James could find a way to avoid Edward's scrutiny, it could change everything.

Edward was watching Jackson closely. "Is it your desire to join the Volterra Guard?"

"Yeah," grunted Jackson, standing up a little straighter as Laurent elbowed him in the ribs. "I mean, yes sir, Captain."

"You understand that this is a lifetime commitment? You agree to swear personal loyalty to your Captain for the remainder of your existence?" Edward's voice was gentle as always, and James couldn't hold back a shiver.

"I understand, sir!" Jackson snapped out the words as though he were applying for a position in the military.

"Very well." Edward nodded at a kid in the back of the room, and he came forward and set up his tattoo machine. The group watched in silence as the artist plugged in his machine, laid out the ink and began the tattooing process. Jackson slid his jacket off his left shoulder and sat with his face impassive as the guy drilled into his skin, the machine buzzing as the needles vibrated against his flesh. Edward watched carefully, his eyes flicking from Jackson's expression to those of the watchers. James warily schooled his face to blankness. Edward would be watching for signs of disloyalty.

When at last the process was done, the artist wiped off the mix of ink and blood with a rag. Three diamonds were emblazoned upon Jackson's shoulder, and the big guy stood up, a look of dumb pride plastered on his face.

James joined in with the congratulations and boisterous greetings. But inside, he was cringing as he did every time now he heard the loyalty oath, the oath he himself had taken, the reminder of the irrevocable mark of his own slavery.

* * *

 _Edward_

When had it become so complicated? Edward strode away from the meeting, making sure his face remained impassive. When he had learned what Kim and Lonnie had done he had been surprised by his own fury. That Bella could have been endangered by his own people had lit a conflagration of rage within him that he could barely contain. It hadn't taken him long to come up with Lonnie's punishment as one suitable for someone who had sought to addict an innocent to Rapture.

It was one of his few codes. No innocents were to be hurt. Those who chose to buy drugs, to lead a life of crime, or attack Edward or those he protected, or violate his rules—they were no longer innocent. They made their own choices, and left themselves open to retaliation. When he dealt out punishment he had always prided himself on his neutrality, his ability to dispense his own form of justice.

He couldn't remember feeling this kind of fury, not for a very long time. What was different now? And why with Bella?

He shook his head. He didn't have time for speculation. James was hiding something, he was certain of it. He had almost called him out in the meeting, forced him to confess. But he had too many other tasks to do today. He could always take care of James later.

It had been a busy day. He had extracted a detailed confession from Kim and let her know her full punishment had been only deferred. Of course, the knowledge that he had been done with her had been sufficient for now. He had smiled at the devastation on her face. Pain of the heart could be far worse than physical pain. And she deserved every bit of it.

Then he had had to arrange to keep Bella out of her apartment while he searched it. He was not going to leave sensitive tasks to underlings again. He had found the tainted sugar, replaced it, checked carefully to make sure the apartment was clean. Then he had to arrange an excuse that would convince Bella to change her locks.

Why was he doing this? How had Bella come to matter so much?

It used to be that everything went smoothly, as smooth and cold as the stroke of a knife. As it had since the day so long ago he had made the decision to live for one thing only.

It was so much easier to shut away the pain, to focus on that single task. He hadn't been more than seven years old when he started his hunt in earnest. It took two years to track down his first target.

But once he found him, it had been smooth, smooth like butter, like the tenderest of meat.

The money he had squirreled away, the deals he had set up, pretending to be a courier for a mysterious adult—all had gone off without a hitch.

No one could believe a nine-year-old could plan like an adult, could commit crimes like an adult. It made it all so simple. He could do what he wanted practically beneath their eyes, and they never suspected. The few times he had been caught, it had been easy to pretend he was innocent, while his accusers searched in vain for the adult who had "used" him.

Curious about their consistent disbelief in his machinations, he had once arranged an IQ test for himself. The shocked expression on the psychologist's face had been amusing. She had checked her answer key twice.

"He's reached the ceiling on this test; I need to administer a second one to determine your son's true score," she had told the drug addict he had bribed to pose as his mother.

When the results had come back at over 200, an avid gleam had appeared in the psychologist's eyes. "I've never seen a score like this before. According to the statistics, it's reached by only one in a hundred thousand children. He's far above genius level. Another way to describe it, although we don't really use this terminology anymore, is that his physical age is nine but his mental age is eighteen."

Walking away from the psychologist's office, he knew he had been wise to stay anonymous. He still remembered her fervent attempts to convince his "mother" to have him come back for more testing and training.

He was a freak.

Maybe his life could have been different, if what had happened to him hadn't happened. Maybe he could have been a scientist, someone who made discoveries that could change the world.

He snorted. Unlikely. He knew what happened to children who were too smart, even if they had the support of their parents. Especially in their poor neighborhood. There were no programs for the "gifted" in their area. The smart kids in his school were made fun of, or beat up. Even though some part of him longed to be nothing more than a bookish nerd who spent all his time in the library instead of running the streets, he knew that was foolish.

Besides, he had a job to do. There had been four of them. He was going to hunt them down one by one.

Had hunted them down.

The man's eyes had rolled from side to side as Edward held the knife to his throat.

"What's going on? You just a kid. What are you, nine? Listen, kid, untie me. Let me go. You don't want to do this."

Edward's hand tightened on the knife. A drop of blood oozed from the man's skin. "Her name was Esme, did you know that?" he whispered. "Esme. She loved music and games."

"Who? What you talking about? I swear, I ain't done nothing."

"Esme," he whispered one more time. His hand shook, and for a moment he almost turned away. He almost had made a different choice.

But then he had drawn the knife across the bastard's throat.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Please review._


	19. Chapter 19

_Bella_

I was packing up my books and getting ready to go home when I heard a murmur of conversation from the hall outside the library. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I was surprised to see Edward, Laurent, and Emmett standing in a tight knot outside the door. Edward was speaking in a low voice, and the others were listening with concerned expressions. I wondered for a moment if I should disturb them, but my feet were already taking me up to the group. I couldn't walk away without greeting Edward.

"Hello," I called out gaily. "What are you all doing here so late? You look like you're plotting something!"

Emmett chuckled, one hand on his hip. "My dear Bella, of course we're planning some truly nefarious deeds."

Laurent huffed and turned away.

Edward's eyes lit as he caught sight of me. In a moment, I was in his arms, feeling safe and warm as he kissed me.

"Well. We can continue this discussion at another time," said Laurent stiffly.

I unwound myself from Edward's embrace. "I'm sorry! I can come back later if you're having a private conversation."

Edward tightened his grip. "No need, Bella. We were just finishing. Please don't go."

Laurent glared, legs spread apart and arms folded. I glanced from him to Emmett, who was grinning broadly.

"No, really," I insisted. "Please don't let me disturb you. I need to go home anyway."

"Then I'll take you there," said Edward. He took my arm firmly, and without a backward glance, led me away from the others.

"Are you sure?" I asked, twisting my head around to watch his friends. Emmett was saying something with a teasing smile to Laurent, who frowned more deeply and made what looked like an angry retort. "It sure looked like I was interrupting something there."

"Nothing important," Edward said, wrapping his arm more securely around me.

I couldn't help myself. I relaxed into his embrace. I felt so comfortable, so protected, so safe in his arms, as though I never needed to worry ever again. "I have to admit, I think your friends are strange. No offense."

"This coming from the girl with the best friend who hits and pinches her all the time?"

I winced. "I guess you're right. But Laurent is so stern all the time. He doesn't seem to like me, or really, to like anyone, and Emmett…" I trailed off. "…is just strange. Does he smile all the time?"

Edward scratched his ear. "Emmett's had a hard life, and smiling is his way of coping." He stroked my back gently. "We all have our ways."

"You seem to do just fine. I know your life's been as hard as any of ours, but you keep it all together, earn good grades, do all these extracurriculars, and you never seem to be afraid." I peered up at him. "Are you really never afraid?"

"I fear nothing. And you don't need to either while you're with me." We had reached the exit to the back parking lot. He held the door open for me. It was dark and windy outside, and the cold air swirled against us, blowing my hair back from my face and chilling my ears. I shivered and pulled my coat more tightly around my body.

"But I _am_ afraid," I whispered. "I'm afraid my grades won't be good enough, that I'll miss the utilities payment, that I'll get attacked by some drug addict on my way home, that I'll die alone…"

He held me more tightly. "Don't be afraid. I'll make sure that none of those things happen."

"But how can you?" I had to laugh. "Can you spin a magic circle of protection around me?"

"Yes." His voice held utter certainty. We stopped by his car, parked in a sheltered spot out of the wind. He smiled with that absolute confidence of his, eyes intense behind his glasses. He placed a finger on my chin, tilted my face up, and laid his lips on mine. We kissed, a long, soft, stirring kiss. Whenever I was with him, I could believe anything he said.

* * *

Loud music spilled out from the doors of the school gym, washing over the groups of students standing in line outside the main doors, waiting to go into the Halloween Ball. Edward, Leah, her date Eric Yorkie, and I stood talking in the cold, crisp air.

Eric frowned at us. "Those costumes are kind of out-of-date, aren't they?"

Leah and Jessica had gone all out when sewing our costumes. They had decided Edward and I would go as Bonnie and Clyde, and had outfitted Edward in a vintage 30s gangster suit. Jessica had always had a talent with a sewing machine, and from somewhere they had found some black satin and sewn me a 30s-style jumper with the tiniest of slit skirts.

I fingered the low-cut neckline of the white underblouse. A saucy red tie was knotted around my throat, pointing straight to my cleavage. I had never worn anything that exposed so much of my body before, and it made me hyperaware of parts of my anatomy I had spent years being instructed by my mother to ignore. A red velvet garter around one leg completed the look, and Leah and Jessica had made me practice jutting out a hip and flashing a sassy pout.

I self-consciously dropped my arm as I caught Edward staring at my décolleté. My face heated. He winked at me and dipped his head to lightly graze my cleavage with his lips.

His touch sent a shiver through my body. Not that my legs weren't already dotted with goosebumps, in the skimpy skirt that barely covered my ass. I had almost refused to wear it when Leah and Jessica unveiled the costume that afternoon.

"Come on," Leah had insisted. "Don't you want to look sexy for Edward?"

I glanced over my shoulder at myself in the mirror. "Sexy, maybe, but practically naked? It looks like you were hoarding every square inch of fabric like it was gold." Although I had to admit I liked the way my legs stretched so long and elegant from the tiny skirt to the strappy black heels.

Jessica pouted. "Aw, we worked so hard on these costumes. Don't tell me you're going to throw away all our work."

So I had to give in, although not without hearing my mother's voice again. "Shameless hussy! Halloween belongs to the devil and now you will too!"

"Shut up!" I said to her. "Everything you told me about Halloween was a lie. It's time for me to start my own life!"

And I had strutted out of Jessica's apartment on those stiletto heels, head held high.

A cold gust snapped at the hem of my skirt and I shivered again. Edward draped his striped jacket over me and I huddled closer, grateful for his warmth. My own accessories, a plastic cigar and a pistol, were not doing much to keep me from freezing in the late fall air.

At least Leah's police officer's uniform, low-cut and showing off her softly-rounded cleavage, came with an overjacket with shiny brass buttons.

Eric was waiting for an answer to his question. "What are you two, old-time gangsters?"

Edward lidded his eyes, looking devastatingly sexy under his white fedora. "Bonnie and Clyde," he said in a deliberately low, deep voice, hugging me tighter. "Lovers until our dying day." I couldn't help quivering at his words.

Eric shook his head. "Come on. Can you get more cliché? Besides, it's not really in-character for either of you. Bella is like a total innocent, and whoever heard of a straight-A gangster nerd with glasses?"

Leah frowned. "I'll have you know that Jessica and I sewed those costumes," she said. "And it took a long time. Plus, it's certainly more imaginative than a clown costume." She scowled at Eric, who grinned under his red nose and waggled one of his oversized shoes.

"Aw, come on. Don't you think this is fun?" he teased. "Besides, if they're going to go with the bad-guy look, why not pick something more modern like, oh, how about vampires, all sparkly."

"Huh?" I asked.

"Geez, Bella, could you be any more clueless?" Eric rolled his eyes.

"Shut up!" Leah hit him with her nightstick and he pretended to yelp.

The line inched forward and Eric persisted. "Haven't you read _Twilight_?"

My cheeks flushed. I didn't want them to know that reading books like _Harry Potter_ or _Twilight_ was against my mother's rules.

It made me look like a total idiot when I didn't know popular culture, but she used to go ballistic about them. "Those books are written by the devil," she would hiss. "Witches. Vampires. Evildoers," she shouted. "You stay away from them, you hear!" she had said.

"Of course I've read _Twilight_ ," I retorted to Eric. "Hasn't everybody?"

But I hadn't. It was Rule #3. Don't let the devil pollute your mind.

Reading _Harry Potter_ was like inviting the devil in for tea in my house. So I always just pretended. Wikipedia could be a godsend. Although Leah had recently taken to quizzing me on trivia and scolding me when I got the answers wrong.

Like a good friend, though, she loyally defended me to Eric. "Bella's not clueless, and we love reading those books together."

I threaded my other arm through hers with a grateful smile.

She glared at Eric. "Somebody's not gonna to get a second date."

"Hey," protested Eric. "I'm just joking. Don't you have a sense of humor?"

Before she could answer, our group reached the head of the line and was swept into the gym, which had been transformed into a murky cave of pounding, thumping music lit by occasional flashes of brilliant strobes. Edward took my arm and led me onto the dance floor.

* * *

 _Alice_

Alice moved awkwardly among the crowd of students dancing, posing, and shouting in the badly-lit gym. The outfit she wore was ill-fitting, and the cheap material was rubbing her skin raw in several places, especially the garters at the top of the fishnet stockings. She was having a hard time concentrating on her targets. Plus, she was worried about her newest cat, Badge, who wasn't eating like she should.

She had caught sight of James earlier, but he had disappeared in the crowd. She shoved her way after him through the darkness, but by the time she pushed through the gyrating bodies, he was gone. It was the same with Jacob; when she tried to tail him she had lost him as well. It didn't improve her mood.

She finally decided to take a break. It was quieter behind the gym, by the drinking fountain, away from the music and shouting. She found a corner hidden from view by a half-wall covered with plants. She didn't feel like talking to anyone right now so the solitude was welcome. She relaxed against the wall and drank a soda, allowing her energy to gradually return.

As she was about to get up and return to the ball, she heard whispers and froze.

"The rap?" muttered someone.

"Big haul at the clubhouse tonight."

She listened intently as they talked, her heart beating against her ribs. This was it. A real lead at last. She could hardly believe her luck after all the blind alleys.

By the time she emerged, they were gone, but she strolled down to the far end of the corridor and pulled out her phone.

She checked to make sure no one was around. "Jasper? I think we can get a warrant for the Volterra clubhouse tonight. I got a tip on a Rapture delivery. I just need to verify it. Maybe we can finally get enough to shut those bastards down."


	20. Chapter 20

_Bella_

Edward tilted up the brim of his fedora with the barrel of his gun and smirked at me. "Not bad, eh?" The striped suit outlined his lean body perfectly and he was every inch the Depression-era gangster.

Amazing how clothes could change everything about a person.

His glance slid coolly down my tight 30s skirt, over the red velvet garter encircling my pale thigh like a warm hand, and he smiled. His gaze seared my bare skin like a laser, leaving a fiery trail over the exposed swell of my breasts.

My hair trailed over my naked shoulders and I couldn't help feeling deliciously wanton as I tossed my head so my heated curls stroked my skin. The rough bodice of the tightly clinging dress made my nipples hard where the fabric rubbed me as I danced.

I could see why my mother said costumes were the work of the devil. Wearing the tight, slinky outfit, my lips outlined in a crimson pout, I couldn't help feeling wild and daring, a little like an actual 1930s gun moll. What rebellious and sinful desires had Bonnie indulged when she followed Clyde away from her safe Kansas life?

My own life was so tightly constrained… my mother had ruled my every thought and action for so long.

Had Bonnie felt this kind of heady freedom, this spark of forbidden excitement, when she left it all behind?

Edward came closer, his eyes focused on me with disturbing intensity.

He moved out of the darkness, shadows playing over the gorgeous planes of his face. Casually, he slid one spaghetti strap off my shoulder with the barrel of the gun.

It was a game.

But it made me feel sexy. Excited.

I tingled all over. His eyes raked across me like they were stripping me bare.

"You know," he whispered, his lips grazing my ear, "Bonnie was quite the innocent until Clyde drew her into his criminal life. But then she eagerly embraced his wicked ways. He corrupted her completely. Would you do that for me, if I were a man like that? Forsake your morals, live the outlaw life? Think of it: utter freedom. No rules. They went where they chose to go, in stolen cars, caroused brazenly in luxury hotels. If they wanted something—" He snapped his fingers. "They took it.

"Anyone who crossed them—died." He mimed pulling a trigger.

I inhaled, licked my lips. It was just play. Not real.

"To Clyde, taking a life meant nothing. Killing was only another tool to get what he wanted."

His acting ability was superb; I was completely enthralled. Even though I shouldn't be.

"Yet she followed him." His voice was low, sparking across my brain with that taste of the forbidden, vibrating over my naked shoulders, his words lapping at my bare throat.

"Would you do that for me?"

I couldn't help it. Caught up in his illicit fantasy, I nodded, breathless, playacting, as thrills pierced me over and over. "I'd follow you anywhere, Edward," I whispered. "Do whatever you asked."

He smiled, and it was a dark, dark smile. "Good."


	21. Chapter 21

_Jacob_

Jacob paced the halls behind the gym, deliberately avoiding walking in step with the muffled throbbing of the bass. He still wasn't sure why he had come to the dance, without a date, without a costume. He had been inside the gym earlier, scanning the dancers, trying not to admit to himself that he was looking for a certain girl in the crowd. He had caught a glimpse of her dancing with Edward and laughing. At that he had gone out, to pace and be alone.

He rounded a corner and saw Laurent and James talking at the very end of the long hallway. Laurent passed something to James, and the two of them split off in opposite directions.

Jacob stared after them. He knew Laurent was one of Edward Cullen's best friends; the two were always together. He had seen them talking only a few minutes ago. After Edward had spoken at length to Laurent, he had nodded in acknowledgment and trotted off.

Could Laurent be connected with Volterra? He was obviously doing some sort of business with James, and James was a high-ranking member of the gang. If Laurent was Volterra, then surely Edward must be too.

Straight-A, squeaky-clean, student body president Edward Cullen was in Volterra.

Jacob's spirits suddenly lifted. All he had to do was prove it, and tell Bella about the connection. Surely she would see that Edward was no good for her. Chin high, he tiptoed down the hall, following in Laurent's wake.

* * *

 _Bella_

The music throbbed in my skull, wild and wicked. It slammed all rational thought out of me and left me swinging in the darkness, twirling in Edward's hands. I was an indifferent dancer at best, but Edward was highly skilled at leading a partner and making me seem better than I really was. Even as I tottered on those stiletto heels, he was still able to twirl and carry me through the music. The song ended and I somehow found myself in a deep dip, one leg pointing in the air, gazing straight into his dark eyes, his strong arms keeping me from what I once would have thought was an inevitable, humiliating crash onto the floor.

I relaxed completely and allowed him to reel me into the next dance. The strobes spun around my head, flashing and outlining a press of bodies all around us, and nothing was certain in the dark world except Edward and his strength and confidence, his completely secure grasp as he poured my boneless body from one step to the next.

It was exhilarating. I felt overheated and excited and strangely graceful.

Like a totally different person.

I was a different person.

I was free of my mother. I was done with her.

I leaned forward and shouted in Edward's ear. "I'm thirsty." Laughing, I led the way to the punch table and scooped myself a brimming ladle of bright orange liquid.

"Not that one, Bella." Edward touched my arm. "You want the punch at the other table."

"Why?" I glanced at the cup I held.

"That one's spiked. Someone put vodka in it."

I frowned. "I know what spiked means." Tonight I wasn't naïve, rule-following Bella. "I want some anyway," I declared.

Edward looked shocked, then amused. "Very well," he said, pouring out half of my cup and replacing it with punch from the other bowl. "You don't want to have too much your first time."

"What? Why not?"

He slanted me a wicked grin. "I want your first experience breaking the rules to be pleasant, so you'll do it again." He handed me the cup with a flourish.

I raised it to him in salute and gulped it straight down. Dancing had made me thirsty, and I didn't taste anything odd about the punch.

He raised his eyebrows at me but said nothing.

"That felt good," I announced. I stuck my empty cup in Edward's hand and poked his chest. "I want more."

Amused now, he filled my cup from the other bowl. "I think that was enough."

I swayed in mock outrage. "What!" I slid my toy gun out of its thigh holster and pointed it at him. "Give me some more, now!"

Edward laughed but pushed the barrel of my gun aside. "It's not a good idea to get in the habit of pointing even a toy gun at anyone… unless you mean to shoot them."

"Hey." I tried to get around Edward to reach the punch bowl, but my shoes had become difficult to balance on. He caught me before I could tip completely over.

"What would Bonnie do?" I asked, struggling up out of his arms. "She would have another cup."

Edward's arms around me were velvet-covered iron. "She would do what Clyde told her to," he murmured in my ear.

I giggled and hung on his neck. "Aw, don't you want to get me drunk and have your way with me?"

"I don't need to get you drunk to have my way with you. Besides, I would want you to remember my way. Very, very clearly." He tugged me back to the dance floor.

The music shifted to another slow dance. Edward brushed his lips over my hair as he held me close, rocking to the music. His hands stroked up my back and tangled in my hair. "I love your hair," he murmured. "So thick, and long, and lush."

I rested my cheek against his chest. "Thank you. Hey, can we stay out all night?" I asked.

His chest vibrated as he chuckled. "I don't mind. I can't go home tonight, anyway."

"What? Why not?"

His fingers, resting on my bare back, tightened. "My—aunt told me not to come home tonight."

"What happened?" I knew he didn't get along with his aunt very well, but he was so close-mouthed about his family that I had no idea whether his parents were even alive.

I had once tried to draw information out of him by telling him about my own parents and what they had done. How Charlie had managed to shield me from it, only to leave when I was eleven. Edward had listened patiently, concern in his eyes, and had held me tightly in his arms. But he had not mentioned one word about his family, or about his home. I didn't even know where he lived.

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" I declared, indignant for him. "And I have an extra couch," I said, greatly daring. "My mother will be at her retreat for another six months, so you can sleep at my place."

"Are you sure?"

I hugged him. "Of course. Of course you can stay with me. You can stay anytime." I buried my face in his shirt. The fabric was soft against my skin, and I could smell his scent on it. I knew my mother and Charlie would chastise me for letting a boy stay in my apartment overnight. But I was done listening to them.

He stroked my hair again and kissed my forehead. "Thank you," he whispered. "You don't know how much that means to me."

I took his head in my hands. "You don't even need to ask, Edward. I'd like my home to be yours." I stopped. Surely that was coming on too strong. That almost sounded like a declaration of… something serious. And it was far too early to be serious.

But his gaze was strange and warm. "Bella," he said softly. "I've been alone for a very long time. I haven't had a home for so long." He drew me in to his chest again. "Not since…" He broke off, and his voice changed. It became rougher than I had ever heard, broken, almost hesitant. For a moment, it seemed like he was no longer perfectly confident, cool, utterly in control as I had always known him to be.

"Bella, you make me feel things I haven't felt since I did have a home. I want to tell you something I have never told anyone else. About my family." He paused, and I made an encouraging noise. "When I was five—"

Before he could finish, the crowd of dancers parted and Jacob was shoved hard toward us. He fell against me and I lost my balance. In a flash, Edward grabbed me and stopped me from falling. He rounded on Jacob, his face hard.

"What are you doing, you bastard?" he hissed in a low, dangerous voice so completely different from his usual suave, calm tones that Jacob's jaw dropped. Edward's hands were balled into fists, something I'd never seen before. "You hurt Bella. I'm going to make you pay for that."

Jacob flexed his arms. "You don't have the right to talk about Bella that way. I'm the one who's known her all her life." They began to circle.

I fluttered around them, afraid for Edward. Jacob was a powerful fighter, and Edward was a bookish nerd who had never struck a blow in his life. But in his face, I saw something different than I'd ever seen before. His eyes flashed behind his glasses with what looked like a decade of constrained rage.

"I'm fine, you guys, please…" I reached out and took Edward's arm, my fingers slipping on his tense, corded muscles.

As I touched him, as though a light switch had been turned off, his face and body abruptly relaxed, his hands opening and falling to his sides. He was once more his gentle self.

"Of course, Bella." Nodding to Jacob, who was still crouched in a fighter's stance with fists at the ready, he lifted a hand, palm open, offering peace.

Jacob stepped back, his face still red. He hesitated for a long beat, glanced at me as if he were about to say something. Then he whirled away and disappeared into the crowd.

"Poor, angry boy," Edward said in a sympathetic tone, shaking his head. He gathered me in his arms again, physically facing me away from the direction where Jacob had vanished into the press of dancing students.

"You were saying?" I prompted, hoping to get him back into the confessional mood.

He shrugged. "Nothing important, really. Why don't we just enjoy the music for a while?" He leaned down and took hold of two fistfuls of my hair, drew me close, and crushed his mouth against mine. His lips were warm and demanding on mine, my heart pounding against his, even as his tongue swept past my lips and moved fast and deep into me. My fingers splayed over his back, my eyes closed, and all I could hear was the music.


	22. Chapter 22

_Bella_

I strutted out of the overheated gym into the cold clear midnight air. The stiletto heels were tough to balance on, and I leaned heavily on Edward. He held me in a secure grip and playfully stroked the bare skin of my shoulders. It felt brazen and delicious for him to assert his ownership of me in public this way, and I tipped my head against his chest.

Whenever my mother saw a young couple on the street with their arms wrapped around each other, she would always say, "Look at that disgusting slut! What shameful behavior."

I put both arms around Edward and rubbed myself against him. His chest was hard and muscular underneath the suit and I reveled in the play of his muscles flexing around me.

We reached his tiny sports car and I pouted. "Your car isn't very good to snuggle in."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Why don't we take another one then?" He scanned the parking lot, strode to a gleaming older Plymouth Valiant, and began to fiddle with the lock.

I giggled, disbelieving, as he popped open the door. "Edward, you're not actually stealing a car!"

"This one has a wide bench seat. Perfect for snuggling." He lifted me, still protesting feebly, into the front.

My bare legs tingled against the soft nap of the velveteen as I tried to decide what to say. My heart pounded. This couldn't be happening. A game was one thing, but actually breaking the law...?

He slid into the driver's seat and reached under the dashboard. "Ah. Easy to hotwire."

The engine started. He backed out of the parking space and I finally found my voice. "Edward! I can't believe this."

He grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen your eyes so wide." He patted the seat beside him. "Slide over. One of the advantages of an automatic transmission – I can use my right arm for something better than shifting."

I fitted myself into the curl of his arm, my entire body sparking with a blend of terror and exhilaration. "You can't– I mean this isn't – oh Edward!"

We turned onto the main road and Edward accelerated with his usual verve. I clutched his leg and squeezed my eyes shut.

He chuckled. "It's almost more fun watching you than driving."

I cracked open one eye. "Nooo! Watch the road!" I cried. Visions of being arrested in the hospital flashed in front of my eyes. "Edward, put it back. Put the car back, please."

He slowed at once and made a U-turn. "Whatever you say, Bella. But I have to admit," he confessed with an impish grin, "this is Emmett's car. We're not really stealing. I texted him and he won't mind if I borrow it."

I gaped. "What!" I swung at him with my tiny beaded purse. "You let me think –"

He shot me a puppy-dog look from under his fedora. "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist teasing you. I'll put it back. And I'll be good now."

I collapsed against him, relief flooding my body. Then I said, "No. I've changed my mind. I like this car better than yours. Let's keep it."

His jaw dropped in mock chagrin. "Better than my Lotus? Ouch. You're better at revenge than I thought."

I grinned, feeling wild again. "Let's take this baby out on the open road and see if we can outrun the cops."

He met my eyes and spun the wheel carelessly. "Hmph. This old beast doesn't handle like my Lotus." He fiddled with an odd-looking device on the dashboard. "But it does have some advantages. How about some Boss on the 8-track?"

"What?" I asked.

"Let's fast-forward from the 30s to the 70s."

A driving beat emerged from speakers all over the car, and a husky male voice belted out, "This town rips the bones from your back..."

My bare thigh vibrated against Edward's leg. We turned onto the highway and he punched the accelerator.

* * *

My eyes flew open. It was the middle of the night. I wasn't sure what had awakened me, but there was a blue glow streaming underneath the door and I needed to use the bathroom. My pulse raced, and I couldn't help thinking about those alien abduction stories in the tabloids.

As I woke up more fully, I realized there must be a rational explanation. After all, I had my first houseguest ever, sleeping in the living room. A houseguest who had made me drink about a gallon of water after we got back from the dance.

When we had come home, Edward had insisted that the couch was comfortable enough for him. We had said a chaste good night. And no, I had not been disappointed; I had definitely not hoped he would try something. Not at all.

I drew on my robe and eased open the bedroom door. The couch was empty, blankets thrown back from the cushions, and Edward's laptop was sitting open on the coffee table—the source of the blue glow. But where was Edward? The front door was ajar and I heard a murmur of conversation from the hallway. Who was he talking to at three in the morning?

The laptop had a couple of browser windows open. I bent closer to check the website and recognized the site's logo: the Common Application for college admissions. Although I used the site often myself, I didn't recognize the page he was on: the teacher recommendation page. I skimmed it and saw phrases such as, "most brilliant student I've had in twenty years of teaching," "truly altruistic and always helping others," and "natural leader." The letter was partially completed, the cursor blinking in the text field. At the bottom was a teacher's digital signature.

That was odd. This section of the website was supposed to be password-protected, accessible only by teachers.

I clicked on one of the other windows. It was the College Board site, open to a page listing Edward's results for the SAT standardized college admissions test. "Congratulations! Out of the 1,523,548 US students who took the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) this year, you are one of only 273 who received a perfect score on the SAT."

I knew he was smart, but I hadn't realized he was that exceptional. I had never known anyone who got a perfect score on the SAT before. He hadn't even told me about it.

Wait. What was I doing? I really shouldn't spy on Edward this way. I put all the windows back the way I found them. If he wanted to tell me about his SAT score, he would. I was sure he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he was on the teacher recommendation page.

And what did it matter, anyway? I crept back into my room. My bed was cold. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, still lit with that pale blue glow. I rolled over and punched my pillow. I turned from side to side, then jumped out of bed.

Edward was working at the computer when I came out of my bedroom.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey yourself." He closed his laptop. "You can't sleep either?"

His pale skin was faintly lit by a sliver of moon shining through the curtains. "No. I missed you."

Brazenly, I pushed his computer aside and sat on his lap. He laughed a little. "Someone still a little buzzed?"

"No. As a matter of fact I'm not nearly drunk enough. Can we get something? Or even better," I announced recklessly, "how about some weed?"

He looked alarmed. "Now Bella, let's take this one step at a time."

"If you don't know where to get any weed, I bet Jacob does. Let's go find him."

I tried to get up but Edward locked his arms firmly around my waist. "Oh, you're not going out in the middle of the night to find Jacob. You're staying right here."

"I'm done with being a good girl," I said. "If we're staying here, I want to go to bed."

He threw me a bemused glance. "Bella—"

I jumped off his lap and grabbed his hand. Then I tugged him into the bedroom.

"Bella, I told myself I wouldn't make any moves on you tonight, but if you make any on me, I'm not going to be able to resist you. I never can resist you."

I climbed into bed and patted the pillow next to me.

Laughing, he lay down beside me. "Let me rub your back. It might help you get to sleep."

He began to rub small circles all over my shoulders. I relaxed as his strong fingers worked on the knots in my back and neck. I rolled closer to him. He stretched out full-length on the bed beside me and pressed himself against me. Heat radiated from beneath his thin nightshirt.

"Mmmm," he murmured. "This feels good. You're so warm." His hands moved from my back to my hair, stroking my scalp. He rolled me over, bringing my face toward his. He drew his face to mine and his lips brushed the delicate skin at my throat. Tingles pricked up and down my spine and I shivered.

I tangled my fingers in his thick, soft hair and ran my hands over his warm shoulders. I bared my throat and neck to him, yearning for those teasing lips to press themselves to my heated skin.

Then I drew back for a moment. "Edward," I whispered, "I'm scared."

He pulled my head to his ever so gently, and his lips grazed my ear. "Bella, sweetheart, don't be. I'll stop whenever you want. Do you want me to stop?"

I listened, but the voices of my mother and brother were silent, at last, for once none of the chatter and scold that filled my days and clogged my nights. It was my decision, mine and mine alone.

"No," I whispered back, running my hands along his torso, silver in the moonlight. The muscles of his back rippled, silk over warm iron. "No. Don't stop."


	23. Chapter 23

_Bella_

"Are you sure?" Edward's voice was low, and oddly hesitant. The bed shifted under his weight. Shadows and moonlight played across his face and I couldn't read his expression.

"I'm sure," I whispered. "I want to do this."

"Bella, before we keep going, you should know—I'm not the man you think I am."

My heart beat faster. I knew, had always known somewhere deep within me, that he was dangerous. That he had a dark secret. That he wasn't the type of boy Charlie would have wanted for me. "Edward, I don't care."

"I've done terrible things." His voice was almost inaudible.

I didn't want to hear him say it. Not now. "So have I!" I said recklessly before he could go on. "I cheated on a science quiz in seventh grade. And once—" I stumbled over the words. I had never admitted this to anyone. "Once I wanted this little heart-shaped aquamarine pendant. I wanted it so much. I stayed up every night to pray, on my knees for hours. Can you believe it? For some stupid little meaningless bit of jewelry. I kept going to Penney's to stare at it and dream.

"Then one day I was in the store when a dog got inside. He was running up and down the aisles, barking and wagging his tail, knocking over displays. Everyone was shouting or chasing after that dog. I—I just grabbed the necklace and ran. No one came after me." I swallowed. I felt better just saying it out loud. "But I didn't go back inside that store for years."

"Bella, I—" He sounded a little choked up.

"No! I'm sure you're going to say that you've done something far worse. But it doesn't matter. Don't you see? My mother always said I was going to get punished, no matter how small my sins were. And I believed her. I've spent my whole life hating myself and being afraid." I buried my face in his chest. "I don't want to be afraid any more. Please, Edward... let me not have to worry about being good any more. I want to be free, and I want to be together with you."

He was silent for a long moment. "You're making it hard for me."

"Why?"

"Because I want you so very much. But I also want to do what's right for you." He gave a harsh laugh. "And unlike you, I'm not accustomed to stopping myself from doing the wrong thing."

I squeezed his muscular arm and let my fingers relax and trace along the well-defined lines of his biceps. I rubbed my face against a broad shoulder. "Then let's forget about the world, and right and wrong, and just be together."

He let out a long breath and stirred in the dimness. I lifted my face to his. His tongue darted out to circle his mouth and I caught a glint of moonlight on his lush lower lip.

The elegant planes of his face were shadowed by moonlight, his hair in disarray. He drew nearer, closer and closer, only an inch away, less.

Then he laughed, tangled his hands in my hair and smashed his lips into mine. I let out a small cry, but it was muffled by the heat of his flesh. His tongue searched deep inside me, stroking the roof of my mouth, back and forth in an erotic dance. I gripped the sheet and my body thrashed in his hold.

Edward's kisses were always intense; he possessed my mouth with his, possessed me completely as his lips caressed me over and over. But this time I tasted something different in his kiss, something fierce and full of longing. It was as though he needed something from me this time, something only I could give him.

He stroked his thumbs along my cheekbones and I quivered at the careless power in his grip. "I want you. I've never wanted anything like I want you."

"I'm here," I said.

He gave a dark chuckle. "You're in the lion's den and you willingly give yourself to me? I would say you're foolish but I think you already know." His eyes glinted in the dimness. "You've put yourself in my hands and there's no escape."

His hands brushed long slow strokes of heat down my sides and I quaked at the barely contained force in his muscles. His teeth nipped at my earlobe and my body shook. His lips skimmed over my cheek and swept down my throat, like fire licking over paper, burning, consuming, flashing over my entire body. I gasped and my body broke out in flame.

His mouth was scalding. Lightning zigzagged across my body and his kiss poured molten moonlight down my spine. I knew I was in too deep, this was too dangerous for me, but the spark of the forbidden had caught me and I couldn't turn back.

His fingers splayed across my neckline, tugging my loose nightgown off my shoulders. Cool air splashed over my bare breasts but failed to chill my sudden, blistering need. No one had touched me like this before, no one had ever felt how soft I was, how my breasts were a pillow made for a head to rest on: his head, only his, my own secret locked away all my life, now bared to him, given to him, shared.

I arched into his touch. I wanted his hands on me; I longed to drag my hair across his skin, to match skin to skin in an agony of delight. I had never known anything like this, had never experienced this urgency, this craving, this yearning for closeness to another human being.

He drew away; I whimpered and reached for him. "Patience, my love," he whispered. With a single, long, languid movement he shed his nightshirt and stood naked before me, a shadow outlined in moonlit silver. I could not see his face but somehow I knew his expression was dark and sensual; my gaze dropped lower but all I could see was darkness pooling between his legs.

The bed dipped under his weight and he pressed himself against my belly, my nightgown stripped from my body like flame takes wood from iron. Our bodies glided against each other, tongues of fire licking and twirling. And I wanted him like paper wants to burn, desiring nothing more than to be utterly consumed, losing all rationality in the black and silver night under his deadly touch.

His hands and mouth trailed along my torso and across my flat belly, fingers and tongue playing with the hair below and I gasped, clutching him, crying out as a gush of pleasure shot from my core. He dragged his tongue through my curls, circled the area below no one had ever touched, licked me with that incendiary tongue until I was about to explode. There was a burning between my legs I wanted him to touch but he kept avoiding it, no matter how I wriggled.

I mewled with frustration and he laughed. "Trust me," he whispered. Amusement flooded into his voice. "Of course, you don't have any other choice."

His tongue probed deeper, curled into me, slid out, warm and wet and delicately circling. I shuddered, a wreck of sensation, a fever flaring across every part of my body, centered in that throbbing single area.

He paused and leaned away with a lopsided smirk.

"No!" I cried, "Please, don't stop!"

He chuckled and licked down the insides of my thighs, his breath teasing my legs, reaching down to my feet. He took each of my toes inside his mouth and flicked at them as I writhed, unable to understand how his touch across the soles of my feet could make me quiver and arch.

He slid his torso along my legs; his wicked tongue stroked up my thighs until his dark head nestled between my legs, his tongue lapping at my folds. Shaking, I ran my fingers through his soft thick hair. I was a throbbing mess of heat and need, reduced to inarticulate groans, unable to speak. Then his circling tongue paused and he gave a single lick to that one spot. Intense pleasure flashed across my body and I screamed and arched up against him.

Finally, finally, he kissed and caressed exactly where I wanted him, where I needed him, stroking with his long silken tongue, more, more, the unbearable tension rising to a peak until I couldn't hold it any longer and my body exploded: I was his; I belonged to him, utterly and completely. I would do anything, go into any darkness for him and for him alone. I cried out and clutched at his hard and rippled torso, convulsing over and over until I gradually quieted, easing into long, lingering streamers of pleasure, his tongue lazily stroking me with long slow caresses of utter bliss.

After a few sweet minutes just lying together, he twined his arms around me, slid up along my body, and very gently kissed my throat; and something hard and hot pushed against my core. He shifted and reached underneath himself, his palm flat against me, his finger probing inside, deeper, deeper, reaching through the waves of pleasure until I felt a sudden, burning pain.

I gave a sharp cry.

"Shhh," he whispered, "I'm stretching you so it won't hurt. Relax." Trembling, I felt myself enfold his fingers; but it burned and I cried out; he murmured to me and I relaxed. He moved deeper, and a brief sharp pain struck me where I had never sensed anything before and then his fingers were caressing, stroking, and once again a wave of pleasure began to mount in me, and I pressed myself against him.

He lifted himself away from me and I heard a crinkling noise.

"Mmm?"

"Just getting a condom, my love." He returned and kissed each of my nipples, flicking his pointed tongue across the tips and tracing blazing wet rings around each, his mouth fiery across my skin. Then his teeth were grazing my lips, something salty and strange on his tongue. He rubbed his long and toned body against me, my soft flesh molding to his masses and ripples of muscle, skin to skin from my breasts to my belly to the soles of my feet, and back to my aching core.

He straddled my legs, his shadow stretching tall above me, and I felt him at my entrance. I tensed. "I'll be gentle," he said. "May I?" he asked with infinite tenderness.

"Yes," I said, breathing deeply. My hands sprawled over his broad, firm, smooth back, and I shivered at the potency in his eyes, at the barely constrained danger that emanated from them.

I was completely at his mercy.

And then he slipped inside me, excruciatingly slowly, filling me, stretching me beyond belief, and I burned and gasped.

"Relax," he whispered. I felt the tightness in a ring of pain, until at last my muscles eased. As I breathed, I realized it didn't hurt as much as I had feared; it was bearable, it was worth it, it was satisfying, it was wonderful.

He began to move, slowly, slowly, like a groundswell of the ocean, like the tide surging, heavy, undulating waves washing over me as he thrust, plunging in and drawing out in an ancient rhythm, filling me to bursting and receding, his breathing shifting, his arms tightening around me. At last we were close, as close as two people could be, one within the other, dancing the dance of passion and completion.

And at last I saw him, this tightly controlled man who never seemed to make a move without calculation, surrendering himself to his own sensations, throwing his head back, thrusting himself deep into me, releasing in deep, shuddering waves, holding me as though he would never let me go, collapsing over me, breathing harsh and fast against my ear.

He sought out my mouth with his, and I drank him in, sealing my lips against his.

We lay together, skin against skin, heart against heart, as our heat slowed and cooled, embers glowing, fire banked by the long shore.

Enfolded by his warmth, in the ringing silence, with no voice but his echoing in my ears, I slept.


	24. Chapter 24

_Alice_

Alice set her teeth as she pushed open the precinct door precisely at 8 AM the morning of All Souls Day. The desk sergeant didn't meet her eyes as she strode past him into the bullpen. All her colleagues appeared to be exceedingly busy at their desks, conspicuously not glancing in her direction. The path to Captain Truong's office had never seemed so long.

Truong's head was bent, only his fine black hair visible as he scratched away at some paperwork.

"Sir," she said stiffly. "I apologize for the events of last night. I—"

"Alice." He held up his hand to stop her. "Please sit down. I want to make sure you hear the details from me because I was there. I led the team that went to the property last night after Lieutenant Hale secured the warrant. We know some of the gangs have informants within the police departments, so I thought I'd handle it myself to make sure it stayed unleaked." He leaned back in his chair.

"It seems certain that this gang you're investigating, Volterra, is behind the distribution and sales of Rapture. They're raking in profits on the suffering of many people. This is a tough case and you need to know we all value what you're doing."

"I appreciate that sir."

"When I went to the target address last night, I didn't know what to expect. We were prepared for anything. But when I led the team in there, it turned out to be something completely different." His mouth twisted. "It was a safe house for battered women, not the gang headquarters."

Alice's lips tightened.

"We went in. It was a nice facility, comfortable. And there were all these terrified young girls coming out of their rooms. One girl—she couldn't have been more than sixteen, a tiny little blonde thing—she had bruises all over her face and arms, two black eyes, cut up lips. She also had a broken collarbone and her arm in a sling." He glanced up at the far corner of the ceiling. "She spat in my face."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "At the end, after we had ransacked everything and conducted a thorough search without finding anything illegal, much less any Rapture, the woman who ran the place came out and tore into me." He ran a finger under his uniform collar and winced. "She reamed me a new one."

"What will happen now?" asked Alice.

"We'll be taking some flack, from the press, from some elected officials, no doubt. And I think the department's going to be facing a lawsuit. The director kept repeating that we had just compromised the safety of all the women and children there."

He let Alice take it in. "Whoever gave us that tip must be laughing their ass off."

Alice said, "Who did the legwork on the address? My sources all agreed that Volterra does have a clubhouse the gang members operate out of."

"Hale's aide, Naomi, a diligent and reliable officer, spent a tremendous amount of time tracking it down, both from street sources and ownership records. On the surface, it looked like a bulls-eye. The property was owned by a shell company, hidden under several layers of interlocking ownerships. There were mysterious comings and goings, and the residents acted furtive, concealing their identities, discouraging visits. They never answered the door to solicitors." He inclined his head. "Wouldn't you agree it sounds like a suspicious location? She got multiple tips that it was the gang clubhouse, verified from several independent sources. However, as you know, the ownership setup, the high level of secrecy, are also typical of such safe houses. It just so happens it also looked like a criminal operation. Somebody planned this out very carefully. They set us up, Alice, set the department up so we would raid the wrong place."

"But—how?" asked Alice. "How did they coordinate it?"

"It had the look of an elaborate plan, with all the witnesses carefully prepped, several layers of misdirection applied." His nostrils flared. "It was a perfectly baited trap. They lured you in—lured all of us in—and snapped it shut on us last night." His fingers curled into a fist on his desk. "I don't need to tell you that we need take down whoever is making us run in circles for their amusement."

"Do you think it's this 'Captain' of Volterra we keep hearing about?"

"Maybe. Or that could be more misdirection. One thing is definite. We're not dealing with just a high school gang. This is a full-blown organized crime syndicate, and I'm certain the leaders are adults. We're looking into suspected drug lords, crime bosses from the area, trying to find who could be capable of running an operation of this magnitude. We're going to get help from the federal Drug Enforcement Agency. We still don't know where the drug is being manufactured."

He pinned Alice with his glare. "I need you to find out more. Give us a link. Find out at least who's running the gang at Forks High. Key activities are definitely centered there. Give us a thread we can unravel so we can find this 'Captain.'"


	25. Chapter 25

_Edward_

Edward opened his eyes in the early morning darkness of Bella's apartment. He lay curled around her, face buried in her sweet-smelling hair. Her breathing was peaceful and even. He rested there a moment, enjoying the sensation of holding her. His internal clock told him it was around five in the morning. He never needed much sleep, and usually got out of bed immediately in the early mornings, using the time to work and plan for the day. It meant his adversaries were behind from the moment they got up. He had never given a lover the pleasure of waking up beside him.

But today—he decided that today would be different.

He smiled into the darkness. The night had been fulfilling in more ways than one.

Laurent had called him during the night with the coded responses that indicated that the location of the clubhouse was safe for the foreseeable future, and that more cops had been made to look like incompetent fools. They would be more vulnerable at the next round of budget cuts. No evidence of Rapture possession had been traced to Volterra, and the cops were chasing after his planted red herrings.

He brought his lips to the back of Bella's head, kissed her. She murmured in her sleep but did not awaken. He remembered Bella's beautiful, firm body lying under his, her innocent, soft cries and all-consuming kisses. She had been so responsive to his touch, so delightfully enthusiastic about following his lead. The intensity of his own reaction to her had stunned him.

Bella had whispered, "I love you," after they had taken pleasure together. For the first time, he had felt an odd twinge at those words. He had heard them many times before from so many people, and it had previously only given him a sense of gratification. Yet another soul had fallen to his blandishments.

Under his control.

Control.

Power.

He craved it, intensely, more than anything else. For so long, nothing had mattered more than bringing as many people as possible under his dominion, expanding his own influence and wealth by whatever means necessary.

He needed power, so that he could never be touched again.

So that no one could hurt him again.

But now for the first time he wondered if there was something more.

Last night had been overwhelming. Terrifying. Completely different from anything he had felt in his life. When they made love Bella had held him as though she would never let him go. It had been her first time, so he was not surprised that she should be so emotionally affected. But what was surprising was his own reaction. It disturbed him like nothing had for many years.

He had truly thought himself incapable of feeling certain emotions, had thought they had been burned out of him long ago. He had accepted that state, even welcomed it; emotions only limited his actions, hindered his rational, linear progression towards his goals.

But now, with Bella warm in his arms, he wondered. A part of him he had thought long dead was coming to life again. Although it was intensely painful, he did not want it to stop. The way a person with nerve damage welcomes the pain of pins and needles as the signal of awakening life, so did this pain remind him of another Edward Cullen, of the child he had been a lifetime ago, when he had once been loved, so long ago, before everything changed.

He still remembered bits and pieces from his early life, odd and disconnected scenes, snippets of emotion. He remembered his mother, warm and beautiful with long curly hair that he could grab in his small fists, soft hair that tickled his skin when she bent over him. How comfortable and secure it was to be held in her arms, and how sweetly she sang to him, although he could no longer remember the tunes. She smelled like flowers, and her voice itself was like a melody.

She played games with him, reading and counting games. She had been so proud of him when he loved math. She cut up his meat and he counted the pieces and laughed. She clapped her hands and he spun in a circle, jumped up and down.

But so much was gone. What was left was vague as though a gauzy curtain had been drawn over it.

On the other hand, everything afterwards had been seared into his memory. In sharp focus.

Sharp, cold focus.

He had been five years old. He was at home watching television after dinner with his parents and older sister when four intruders burst into their house. He remembered glancing up from the TV, uncomprehending, as they entered the living room.

"All right!" one shouted. "Everybody down and don't move!" The boy froze, staring at what he realized was a gun.

His father, tall, dark-haired and imposing, stood up slowly. "What is the meaning of this?"

The leader pointed his gun at him. "Shut up and get down on the floor!"

It happened in what seemed like an instant. His father, enraged, charged the guy and managed to knock him to the ground. But one of the others must have fired. The shot was so loud, the young boy felt it in his eardrums and mouth more than he heard it, and the echoes rang in his head, muting the sound of the television. His father crumpled to the floor and blood oozed from beneath his shirt.

His mother screamed. She was crying, shrieking in panic and fear. One of the others slapped her face. "Shut up, bitch!" But she seemed unable to stop. His sister sobbed and wailed, adding to the din.

"Shut up or I'll shoot you all!" someone shouted.

The young boy, crouching motionless on the floor, wanted to urge his mother and sister to please be quiet; couldn't they see what was going to happen?

And then it did. Two more gunshots made the boy's ears ring even more. His mother and sister collapsed on the floor. Blood spurted from his mother's wound and spread across the hardwood floor.

"Come on! Tie him up and let's go." One of them pulled out a couple of zip ties and locked the boy's wrists to the arm of a heavy wooden chair. They pounded up the stairs.

He heard them stomping and cursing upstairs. He stood alone in the living room staring at his family, not moving, for what seemed like a very long time. Eventually, there were more thumps on the stairs; they ran downstairs and were gone.

He learned later that it had all been a mistake: their neighbor had been involved in a drug deal, and had kept cash in his mattress. Somehow their house had been mistaken for his. His family had been shot over nothing.

He stood there, chained to the arm of the chair, listening to the footsteps die away. And then it was silent in the living room that had once held the three people he loved most in his life. In the silence he gradually became aware that his mother was still alive. She was whimpering and gasping.

"Mommy," he called, but she did not respond, just continued with tiny moans and cries of pain. Blood seeped from her wound. 911, he thought, he had to call 911. The telephone was on the kitchen counter. He began dragging the heavy chair, slowly, in that direction. The sharp plastic hurt his wrists, but he kept on going.

After what seemed like a very long time he managed to get to the kitchen. But he had a problem. He could see the telephone, just above his eye level, on the counter. But he couldn't reach it with his hands locked to the chair. He tried lifting his bound hands to counter level. He tried over and over again, but he was just not strong enough. He tried to see if he could reach the phone with his head, push the buttons with his nose or mouth, but he was just a little too short. He collapsed over the chair arm. His eyes stung with tears.

Then he told himself he must not cry, and the tears dried up. He tried to slide his hands out of the zip ties, but they were clamped over his wrists too tightly.

He thought of trying to get out the kitchen door to go for help, but he could not reach the doorknob. He thought of flicking the light switch on and off to signal a neighbor, but it was also out of his reach. He tried shouting for help, but no one came.

So he methodically attempted once more to slip his hands out of the zip ties. He worked and worked at it for a long time, as the whimpers and cries from the living room gradually became fainter and fainter until they stopped altogether.

When they finally found five-year-old Edward the next morning, still handcuffed to the chair in the kitchen, the soft skin of his wrists was so battered it looked like raw meat. The ties and chair arm were covered in blood.

Much later, they told him his family was dead, but he didn't cry. He never cried again.


	26. Chapter 26

_Edward_

Edward tightened his arms around Bella's sleeping figure.

To think it had once been all a whim. He had long thought she was beautiful, with her lush curves, waterfall of wavy hair, and luminous skin. He had been drawn to her quick, sharp wit. But for so long she had been a rival, nothing more. She had nothing he wanted. As a rule, he stayed away from the more straitlaced girls. Why waste his valuable time convincing someone to give him what was freely available from so many others?

But something had changed at the beginning of the school year; despite her prim wardrobe and innocent mannerisms, Bella had begun to exude an unconscious sensuality. He found himself noticing the flash of sunlight over her mass of auburn curls, the swing of her slender hips, the swell of her breasts beneath her demure blouses. Every time she walked by she had stirred him.

It no longer seemed a waste to spend time with her. He decided to romance her for his amusement.

Somewhere along the way, it had grown into more than amusement.

Her reactions were so unique, her imagination so vivid. Most people were boring; their motivations were selfish, straightforward, and transparent. They were so easy to manipulate. So easy to predict. To twist.

But Bella kept surprising him. Intriguing him. Her most recent, sudden turn to what she thought was the dark side was a prime example. He wasn't sure whether to be amused or worried.

And there was something about her that kept bringing up odd feelings within him, flashes of memory from long ago that he had thought well sealed.

His mother had been a kind, sweet person.

He frowned and shifted in the bed, curling himself more tightly around Bella as she slept.

He had once thought to bed her, get her out of his system, and move on. But now he realized that was not going to happen. In the past, he had always felt a vague letdown after he slept with someone, a feeling that somehow, they had not measured up to an intangible ideal. He had always assumed that it was simply that he grew bored quickly with his lovers. But now, his feelings for Bella had, if anything, become more intense after last night.

He had found himself wanting to pleasure her, to give her intense joy, to make her first experience one of wonder, not merely to gratify his own ego, but for her. And now all he wanted was to repeat the occasion, to build on it, over and over again. For the first time in his life, sex had been more than a performance, more than merely a giving and taking of pleasure. It had transcended all of these and had taken his thoughts and emotions in entirely new directions. He had found himself thinking of what would be best for another human being besides himself. As she lay in his arms in the dimness, he struggled with the strange and unknown feeling that he somehow wanted to share everything he had with another person. It was perhaps the first truly unselfish feeling he could remember having.

It was a dangerous emotion for one in his position. Surely he could keep this irrational feeling under control.

But did he want to?

Sudden waves of extreme joy were sweeping through his body, inundating him. They were orders of magnitude more intense than the gratification he got from seeing others grovel before him, from reveling in his own power—the pure pleasure he felt from those experiences was nothing, nothing in comparison.

He lifted his face up to the first light of dawn and found himself smiling. Why should he deny himself this new joy? He had always gotten whatever he wanted, whatever the cost. Why should he not get what he wanted now?

But it would be dangerous. For the first time a chill swept through him at the thought of danger. Not to himself; he had lived with risk for so long it no longer mattered. But Bella was already at risk. She would be plunged into even greater peril from both his enemies and his own subordinates.

A fierce conviction welled up in him. He would protect her at any cost. At all costs. Those who even attempted to hurt her would be punished. He would burn, maim, kill, do utterly anything to keep her safe, regardless of the consequences.

His train of thought halted, his fury abruptly quenched.

Would she want him to?

In the past, any desire in conflict with his meant nothing. He would simply play another of his psychological mind games; manipulate the other into wanting exactly what Edward wanted.

But he did not want to manipulate Bella.

He wanted her to know him. To know his true self, down to the core. To love the person he actually was. As an equal. A partner.

Was it even possible?

Could she love his true self?

Of course, he could change his own activities, go legit. Assuming he could get out from under the arrangements he had made with some very bad, very powerful people. He could figure out how to get away later.

Once he had enough of a nest egg, illegal means would no longer be necessary. He had always known that with sufficient capital and connections, he could rack up profits while staying on the reputable side of the law, something that would not have been possible had he remained a poor child from the slums of Forks. His lips twisted briefly. Despite the constant media blather about rags to riches stories, the so-called American dream was a myth perpetuated by the rich to keep the poor docile. In reality, the poor had no chance to move up unless they broke the rules. He had no choice. He had to make the decisions he had. He hadn't wanted to deal drugs at first. But what other choice did a powerless boy have?

How did Balzac put it? "Behind every great fortune lies a great crime." With wealth one could buy legitimacy and respectability. He could list the stories of the great American entrepreneurs, all their sordid pasts, the subtle and blatant cheating, deceit, even murder that had been committed, and how it was all washed clean by the flood of wealth. He would follow in their illustrious footsteps.

Currently, his profits were breaking all records. Rapture was the most successful product he had ever handled. So what if he had had to make a deal with the devil? At this rate, he would soon be an exceedingly wealthy man. He could then build an identity as a legitimate businessman and enjoy his wealth in public.

He had once planned to first complete his Ivy League college education. There he would gain the legitimate business connections that would catapult him to the top of the business world. And there, he had long planned that he would find a daughter of a rich, powerful family, woo her, marry her, and make himself indispensable to the rulers of the family, insinuate or threaten his way into an executive position in the family business. It would be the fastest way to acquire control over billions.

He gazed again at Bella, sleeping peacefully beside him in the morning light. Her face, in repose, was beautiful; long golden lashes just brushing her cheeks, her full lips slightly parted as her chest rose and fell with gentle, slow breaths.

It would be boring, after all, too easy, to marry into money. How much more challenging, more satisfying, to build that huge fortune all on his own, pitting only his wits and cunning against the business world. Why should he limit himself in his personal life by constraining himself to be attached to someone who would undoubtedly be inferior to him, someone whom he would have to spend a great deal of time and energy manipulating into acceding to his wishes. How infinitely preferable it would be, to make the choice of companion based on his own desires, on intellectual compatibility, on beauty—on love.

He stroked Bella's cheek. She murmured something unintelligible.

He rolled over and stared at the ceiling. He had deliberately created a particular persona for himself as leader of Volterra, his only goal to exercise control over the violent and aggressive members of his gang. He had built up and nurtured that persona to be a figure of fear and dread, larger than life, almost supernatural in his abilities and inclinations. As Machiavelli had said, it was better to be feared than loved.

But what could he do now, if he wanted to be loved after all? What would be her reaction when she found out that her boyfriend was actually the dreaded "Captain" of Volterra? Could she accept it?

Or would she hate him?

And could he get free from his entanglements?

Or would they kill him – and Bella?

* * *

 _Bella_

I woke up warm.

That never happened. I usually awakened curled up in a tight ball, freezing beneath the covers. For some reason I could never get warm enough in the early mornings. But today, I was enfolded in Edward's arms. His heated flesh surrounded me and the deep, slow beating of his heart thumped against my cheek. My face was pressed to the firm muscles of his bare chest. My fingers tangled in his messy hair, his thick curls warm and unbelievably soft against my skin.

I was completely naked, lying in bed with a dangerous man.

I tingled all over. I was a little sore in an unusual place, but even that simply made me vibrate like a tuning fork. Then I noticed something else. I usually awakened hearing my mother's or Charlie's voice in my ears, scolding me about all the things I had done wrong the day before.

Today there was silence.

Last night I had violated just about every rule I had been brought up with. I had given my virginity to someone who had admitted he was hiding something. But instead of guilt, I felt only exhilaration. Edward's dark secret only intrigued and thrilled me. Rationally, I should be afraid. But deep in my heart, something in me wanted to sing with joy.


	27. Chapter 27

_Bella_

The bed dipped and creaked and Edward fitted himself around me. His hard torso pressed against my back, his body so much denser than my soft flesh. He draped one lean, muscular leg over my hips, enfolding me, and nuzzled his mouth into the back of my neck. His lips trailed over the delicate skin just under my hairline, sending tingling streaks flashing across my bare shoulders and throat. I wasn't used to sleeping in the nude, and I could feel my sheets rubbing over the soft hair along my pubic bone. All the sensations bombarding me felt odd. Erotic. A word I normally never used. I couldn't help wriggling a little as his hand carelessly stroked my breast, traced a slow circle around my nipple.

"Mmmm," he said. His lips vibrated against the fine hairs under the nape of my neck. "It's more wonderful than I could've imagined, waking up in bed beside you. We'll have to do this more often."

I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed a while longer and explore some more of these new experiences. But I wasn't quite sure exactly how I felt. Warm and happy, yes. Thrilled, yes. But also a little embarrassed and not at all ready for a morning-after talk.

So I jumped out of bed. "Dibs on the shower!" This was the first time I'd ever been completely naked when I got out from under the covers. "Brr!" I shivered and ran into the bathroom.

"I'd call foul, but that is one fine ass you're shaking as you monopolize the facilities," he called from behind me. I laughed and locked the door.

By the time I finished showering I had gathered enough courage to leave the bathroom and face him again. I slid open the door and smelled the unmistakable scent of something rich and savory frying. I found Edward in the kitchen, leaning casually against the stove, a spatula in his hand. He was completely dressed and as elegant and immaculate as ever, except for that head of messy dark hair. Four eggs, their glossy yolks bubbling, were sizzling in my largest skillet, and several slices of bacon were spattering away in my second-largest. My stomach rumbled.

I leaned against the door jamb. "Wow, you cook, too?"

"One of my many secrets." He turned the bacon over with a pair of tongs. "How do you like your eggs?"

My insides clenched. I didn't want to hear his secrets. Not today, not so soon. For some reason, I remembered my little flight of fantasy in the cafeteria, when he had threaded his fingers around my neck and squeezed, absolutely no expression in his eyes. I shivered. "It's no secret that I like my eggs sunny side up," I said. "Although I do have a fondness for over easy on alternate Thursdays."

He grinned. "Sunny side up it is." He tipped the skillet, spooned a little of the hot melted butter over the tops of the yolks. His movements were sure and practiced. "How are you feeling?" he asked after a short silence.

I looked away from him. "I'm fine, Edward. I feel terrific." I wasn't lying, but I couldn't bear to think in detail about everything right now. It was just too much. He had swept into my life the way he drove, fast and aggressive, thrilling and illicit, and changed so many things. Part of me wanted to rush after him, to follow him wherever he led, but another part needed to jam on the brakes.

He arched a brow at my non-response but didn't probe further and bent to his work at the stove. I puttered around, getting out knives and forks. Toast popped out from the toaster, and Edward slid the eggs and bacon onto a couple of my chipped plates.

He set the dishes on the rickety card table that served as my dining room. "Breakfast is served."

I sat across from him, avoiding his eyes, and stared at my food instead. The egg yolks gleamed golden in the morning light, their lacy brown edges bubbling gently. The bacon was just the way I liked it, drained and laid on a paper towel, completely crispy, not charred or soggy anywhere. It smelled mouthwatering and my stomach growled in anticipation. I picked up a slice of bacon with thumb and forefinger and crunched it between my teeth. I had to close my eyes at the roasty, rich flavor that suffused my mouth. So utterly satisfying I moaned a little.

The warm, hearty scent of wheat toast teased my nose. I buttered a slice and swirled it around in the yolk, scooped up the concoction. "Edward, this is delicious. Thank you so much for making this amazing breakfast."

His eyes were hooded. "Watching you eat is enough reward. I don't think I've ever seen lips so glistening and tasty as yours." He licked a crumb off of one of his. Then he deliberately swept his pointed tongue from corner to corner of his mouth, making me remember exactly what he had done with that clever tongue last night.

I couldn't help blushing again. Wasn't I supposed to stop doing that, now that I was a woman and no longer innocent? Now that I was a rule-breaker, a fallen soul?

I took another bite of the toast to cover up any trace of embarrassment. Bad girls weren't supposed to be ashamed, were they?

Toast. Wait. When I left for school yesterday I had made a note to buy bread, but I hadn't had a chance to go to the store. "Hey," I said. "I didn't think I had any fresh bread left. Nor any eggs."

Edward tilted his head but said nothing. He smirked at me from across the table. I ran to the refrigerator and yanked it open.

My shelves were bursting with fresh produce, leafy red and green kale sticking out from the crisper drawer, two dozen eggs nestled neatly in their cups in the refrigerator door, butter and cream and six pomegranates perched on the top shelf, and just beneath them a net bag of mandarin oranges with green leaves still attached.

I gaped at Edward out the pass-through window. "What happened?"

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it messier than before, and leaned back, stretching his long legs underneath the table. His smirk broadened. "I guess if I said magic you wouldn't believe me."

I scowled at him.

"Too bad you're not more gullible. It's easier when people believe everything I say." His voice was lazy and amused.

I lowered my brows and he turned his hands palm upwards with a mock sigh. "All right. I was up early and ordered some groceries. Paying you back for your kindness giving me a home for the night."

"You didn't need to do that."

"I don't _need_ to do anything. I do whatever I choose. And today, I choose to give you a gift."

It would have been rude of me to protest any further. "Thank you." I opened another cupboard and sucked in my breath. "My favorite organic pastry flour!" There were not one but three bags of the sinfully expensive flour I loved to bake with because it felt like silk under my fingers.

My heart started pounding again. How much did this all cost? "Edward, I—"

He waited, quirking a brow. The silence stretched out. I realized he wanted me to ask him what was going on. And suddenly I was afraid, so afraid that something terrible would happen if he told me. I closed the cupboard. "This is terrific!" I said brightly. "Thank you so much!"

Edward set down his fork. "Aren't you going to—"

I panicked. "No, Edward, I don't need to know." I pushed my chair back from the table. "Besides, we have to get ready for school, don't we?"

"Bella, listen—"

"No!" I jumped up and put my fingers in my ears. "I'm not listening, la, la, la, la…" I backed away toward the bedroom. "I'm too busy loading my books into my school bag, la, la, la."

He shook his head, laughing. "All right. Have it your way."

His cell phone rang. He glanced at the number on the front and his smile faded. He put the phone to his ear. "Yes." His voice was lazy, commanding. So much authority compressed into one single syllable. I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself, realizing I was trembling.

There was a short silence. "On my way," he said curtly and rose from the table. "I'm sorry, Bella, I need to go. See you at school?"

"I'll walk you downstairs," I said, my heart still beating rapidly.

It was a chilly, overcast morning. Before he got into his tiny sports car, he took me in his arms and kissed me. His lips lingered on mine, warm and sweet as butter and honey. His tongue caressed the roof of my mouth and my legs felt weak. "Bella," he said softly, cupping my face in his hands, "what happened last night meant a lot to me. We'll talk again soon."

He zoomed away from the curb with his usual abandon. Where he was going, what he was doing, I didn't want to know. I didn't want to know. I felt those long fingers around my throat once again and I heard the fortuneteller's voice creaking. "You are in danger. The shadow has him…"

Goosebumps rose all over my skin. What was happening to me? What was going to happen to me? I pushed it away the way I had those times with my father. And what my mother did afterwards. It wasn't going to happen. It didn't happen. The roar of Edward's engine died away and the early morning stillness returned to the street.

In the sudden quiet, I heard a stealthy footfall on the sidewalk behind me.


	28. Chapter 28

_Jacob_

The alarm clock rang and Jacob reached one arm out to silence it. He dragged himself out of bed. It had been a singularly unsatisfying night. The dance had been miserable, as he had half-expected. He had spent much of the evening tailing Laurent without anything to show for it. After his initial meeting with James, Laurent had merely wandered the dance floor, occasionally moving into the quiet of the hallways behind the gym to make calls on his cell phone, conversations Jacob had been too far away to hear.

Worst of all had been the way Bella had spent the entire evening dancing with Edward. When Jacob had bumped into the two of them he had been sure he was finally going to be able to settle everything in the way he knew best: with his fists. But to his chagrin, Bella herself had come between them. He had seen the flash of fear in her eyes—fear of _him_. She had wanted to protect Edward from him. It was that flash in Bella's eyes, more than Edward's sudden calmness, that had deflated Jacob and made him turn away. How could he fight in front of Bella?

He punched his fist into his hand in frustration. He had to convince Bella rationally that Edward was bad for her. He grimaced. Objective reasoning had never been his strong suit. Still, he had to do it. He had to. It had nothing to do with his own feelings for Bella. It was just the right thing to do.

He skipped breakfast, saying a quick goodbye to his father. Then he was out on the street in the chill air, running to Bella's apartment building. He would get there before she left for school; accompany her as she walked to class. He didn't know yet what he would say, but somehow he would convince her of the danger Edward posed.

He skidded to a stop as he turned the corner onto Bella's block. Two figures were embracing outside her front door. To his horror, he realized that they were Edward and Bella. She waved cheerily to Edward as he strode to a sports car parked at the curb and sped off. Bella stayed on the sidewalk smiling.

Jacob's entire body tensed. Had the bastard actually spent the night with Bella? No. It couldn't be true. Bella would never do such a thing.

His feet carried him forward; he ran to Bella as she stood there on the sidewalk, not even wearing a jacket, seemingly oblivious to the early-morning cold, still gazing after the person who had driven away.

"Bella," he gasped, coming to a stop a few feet away.

She whirled, the fear in her eyes becoming relief when she recognized him. "Jacob." Her voice sounded even more lovely and warm than usual. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?"

"I—just needed to talk to you about something important," he said, still out of breath.

Then he stopped. He couldn't help himself. "Was that Edward Cullen I saw driving away just now?" He couldn't keep an angry note out of his voice.

To his chagrin, Bella blushed a cute shade of pink at his words. "Yes, it was," she said, not meeting his eyes, and speaking very fast. "His aunt wouldn't let him in the house last night, so he asked if he could sleep on my couch, and I said yes." Her face grew bright red and she wrung her hands together.

Jacob shook his head. Something more than Edward innocently sleeping on her couch last night had happened. "Bella," he began, "Cullen really isn't good for you. He's just not safe."

Bella's expression switched from embarrassment to defensiveness. "What? What do you mean? Edward is a kind, good person."

"How much do you really know about his past?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I mean that he's just playing the role of squeaky clean straight-A student. I think he's involved in some bad things," Jacob said. "I've seen him doing some questionable things over the years."

Bella shook her head. "What are you saying?"

"I've seen him brawling on the street with thugs and criminals, although he pretends to be just a nerd. And I've seen his friends talking to Volterra members."

"What are you accusing him of?"

"He's got gang connections. He has dealings with Volterra but is hiding it." Jacob wanted to shake Bella. He knew his evidence was sketchy to say the least, but his gut was telling him he had to get her away from Edward now at any cost. "Haven't you noticed him behaving suspiciously?"

Bella shook her head, but Jacob saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes. "You're so obsessed with Volterra, Jacob. You see everything as a conspiracy with that gang behind it."

"Because it's true!" Jacob burst out, his legs planted wide. "Don't you see, Bella? Volterra is behind the spread of Rapture. Haven't you seen all the new addicts on the streets? Our clinic's beds are filled with overdose cases."

"Yes, I agree it's terrible." Bella was shouting as well. "But Edward has nothing to do with it! How can you even say that?"

"Come on!" Jacob stuck his hands in his pockets to restrain himself from grabbing Bella. "How does he get the money to have that fancy car, to take you out to all these expensive restaurants?"

She stiffened. "Edward has a part-time job."

"Do the math, Bella! You're supposed to be the mathematics genius. How many hours a week would he have to work at minimum wage to be able to afford to take you out every week?"

"How do you know how often he takes me out? Have you been spying on me, Jacob?" She put her hands on her hips.

"No! I've just been trying to watch out for you, since you don't seem to be able to do it for yourself!"

"Just because you're my friend doesn't give you the right to tell me whom I can choose as a boyfriend. I like Edward and I'm going to continue to go out with him no matter what. Now, leave me alone so I can get ready for school." She spun around and flounced back into her apartment building.

Jacob stood alone on the sidewalk, cursing himself. What had happened to reasoned argument? He had just yelled at her and jeopardized his own friendship with her. Angry at himself, he jammed his fists into his pockets and slouched off to school.

* * *

 _Emmett_

Emmett stood in the shadows of the unkempt vegetation around the old apartment building. He had watched the argument with great interest. So, Jacob thought Edward was connected with Volterra. That could be very useful information. He put his head to one side as he considered what he should do with it. Emmett collected information about Edward as well as about everybody else, and he was judicious about how he chose to use or reveal that information. It was the most valuable commodity in his world.

He knew many people considered him Edward Cullen's best friend. But Emmett knew better. He doubted that Edward really had any friends. Emmett and Laurent simply played the roles of Edward's close friends. Good students. Kids who stayed away from drugs and drinking. Who would never join a gang.

While all the time serving as Volterra's lieutenants.

It was a good cover story for Emmett. Especially the "staying away from drugs" bit. Why not combine business with pleasure?

As to Edward, no one had yet learned what lay beneath any of his cover personalities.

However, Emmett did know Edward considered him useful, and that serving in his gang was quite lucrative. Emmett had a nice little nest egg put away, just in case.

The question of Edward's relationship with Bella Swan—now that was interesting. Most of what Edward did, even for his own entertainment, served dual purposes, cementing his control over his gang or furthering various plans to increase Volterra's influence or profits. He knew how Edward treated most women he'd had sexual relationships with, and there were some key differences with Bella. Nevertheless, Emmett had some difficulty believing that Edward could really have what others might consider a normal relationship with anyone.

He knew Edward's attitude about attachments. "It's a mistake to make yourself vulnerable, Emmett," he had once told him. They had been relaxing in the clubhouse after a particularly successful operation. Edward rarely drank hard liquor, but this particular haul had included a rare bottle of aged Chivas Regal scotch. Edward hadn't been able to resist the exclusive, numbered bottle.

Edward had been unusually loquacious that evening, dispensing advice and dropping hints of secret knowledge until Emmett had been practically salivating for more of his favorite commodity. Edward's eyes glinted with reflected firelight as he showed more emotion than Emmett had ever seen.

"Attachments are dangerous," said Edward.

"What about Tanya? She's one fine woman. Seems like you might have some feelings for her."

"Feelings?" Edward scoffed. "If I did, it would only turn out badly for me—not to mention her."

"Really? I think she likes you, Captain."

"They all like me." His fingers caressed the stem of his glass, swirled the amber liquid within. "It serves my purposes."

A shiver passed through Emmett.

"We have no need for weaknesses like that." His eyes glittered and he pinned Emmett with a dark glance. "Don't you agree?"

It was only afterward that Emmett had wondered.

Did Edward suspect his secret?

Had the whole evening been a setup?

Emmett had been so careful, in all his furtive and increasingly desperate searches through the foster care system.

He could have sworn he had never left any evidence, had never let _her_ name cross his lips where Edward might find out.

He still hadn't found her. He had no idea where she had ended up after she went into the system. And Edward had never given any sign he knew of Emmett's… attachment.

Emmett shivered. If what he suspected now was true, it would be easy to displease Edward over Bella Swan. He did not want to be added to the list of people who had disappeared. He had gotten to where he was, and kept his position as Edward's top lieutenant, by carefully anticipating and attending to his every need and desire.

Still, if he could gain leverage over Edward—it could be extremely lucrative.

He thought again about _her_.

In more ways than one.


	29. Chapter 29

_Alice_

Alice opened another can of cat food and plopped it into the last of the five bowls under the kitchen table. Miranda rubbed against her legs on her way to the food, Goon Squad mewed, and Cease-and-Desist turned up his nose at the food while the other cats nibbled at their bowls.

Alice swiped a hand across her forehead. Ever since the Halloween debacle, it had become increasingly difficult for her to calmly go about her undercover work, when more people were becoming addicted to Rapture every day. The department's progress was too slow, hampered by procedures and rules while Volterra was able to run roughshod across people's lives without regard to law or morality. There had to be a way to change things. Maybe it was time to break a few rules herself.

She opened the refrigerator and rooted through a bunch of Tupperware containers filled with moldy leftovers. As usual, when she was on a case, she tended to forget that she, like her cats, also needed to eat. She swayed for a minute, dizzy, then shook herself. She didn't have time to eat or sleep now. She had been up all night working on her crime board, trying to put more pieces together. She was out of coffee, so she went to the bathroom and took a No-Doz.

On the way to school on the bus, she finalized the new ideas she'd spent all night working out. In the supply closet, Jasper was waiting for her. "I received an anonymous tip that looks interesting," he said.

She scoffed. "Another? We've already wasted a boatload of time checking too many of them out. Nothing."

"No, this one's different. There's a local company, Volturi Pharmaceuticals, that synthesizes industrial chemicals. They've got a lab less than five miles from here, down in the warehouse district. Small company, family-owned, been in business about ten years, on shaky financial ground."

Alice glanced up from her notes, her interest piqued. "You think they might be looking for additional sources of revenue?"

"The owner, Aro Volturi, seems shady. Long hair, snarky personality, makes no secret he was a former hippie who experimented with psychedelics. He's got two drug busts from his college days, and has published anonymously at recreational drug sites, including a long biographical piece on Owsley."

Alice snorted at the mention of the underground chemist who mass-produced LSD in the sixties. "That would definitely shoot Volturi up my list. Anything else?"

"We don't want a repeat of the clubhouse debacle. We need good solid evidence before we do anything."

Alice mused, "I wonder if we could get someone undercover."

"I'll see if the department has the budget for that." He shook his head. "Unlikely."

"What about finding someone already on the inside who might be willing to talk?"

"I got some of the employee files." He rifled through his backpack, handed a stack of manila folders to her.

She took them. "Good. I'll work on it." It could dovetail well with her plans of the previous night.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" He squinted at her.

"Huh? As good as could be expected, seeing as we're not nailing these Rapture dealers."

"You seem a little manic today, and I know you were depressed over the bust on Halloween."

"Shut up! I'm fine." She forced a smile. He was a little too perceptive at times. Better not to go into detail about what she was planning. Jasper was a good cop, but he had a tendency to quote regulations to her at the wrong time.

Later that day, after her remedial algebra class, Alice flipped through the files. She'd checked with Greene and he'd given her the backgrounds of some of the student interns. Not that she'd told him the extent of her plans. It was all up to her now.

She glanced at the photo stapled to the form. The boy seemed vaguely familiar, one of the quiet kids she hadn't paid much attention to. His eyes were mild behind rectangular glasses. One of the forgettable nerds you saw in every high school, obviously not a gang member and equally obviously inconsequential in the high school social hierarchy.

Of course, it went against all standard procedures to bring students in on a police operation. But it seemed like only the kids knew what was going on. And it was worth it, if it meant saving lives. Truong's latest report had traced over a hundred crimes to Rapture in the past week alone.

She studied the student carefully. Someone she could give just enough information to get him on board. Someone unimportant who could blend into the background.

Perfect.

* * *

Edward sat across the desk from Alice, obediently sorting through the photographs she had brought. He tapped one of them. Long dark hair fell well past the man's shoulders and beady eyes glittered from a pale face. "This is Aro Volturi, the company owner," Edward said. "He used to be a scientist, but now he's mostly an administrator."

"Is it true he's a former hippie?"

Edward nodded. "He makes no secret of his past. When he was in school, he dabbled in many different drugs. Led kind of a dissipated life. But now he seems to have settled down. Although," he mused, "he's easily distractible and sometimes appears confused. Maybe a bit of brain damage from all the psychedelics."

Alice made a note on a pad of paper.

Edward picked up the next photograph. Curly, uncombed dark hair surrounded a long face topped with penetrating eyes. Behind him, two young kids peeked around a door jamb. "Marcus is the chief scientist at the company. He's somewhat of a character as well. Aro's always scolding him for wearing open-toed shoes while handling chemicals. These two are his niece and nephew, Jane and Alec. They do janitorial work around the lab. It's a family operation." He set the photo down. "Marcus has kind of a cavalier attitude toward safety. He often makes fun of the rules we're supposed to follow."

"Do you think he or Aro could be synthesizing illegal chemicals?"

Edward shrugged. "I've never seen any evidence of it. But then I don't have access to many of the secured areas of the lab." His eyes were sharp behind his glasses. "You think they're behind the synthesis of Rapture."

It was a statement, not a question, although Alice hadn't said anything about the purpose of their mission. She had to admit the kid was smart. "I can't comment on an ongoing investigation," she said. "Now, how often do you work and what do you do?"

"Part-time after school, three days a week. I wash the glassware, run the centrifuges, errands like that."

Alice scratched her cheek absently as she checked her notepad. "I saw you were listed as an author on a paper written by Aro and Marcus last year."

"Yes." Edward nodded. "They added me because I made a few small contributions to the research."

"What was the paper about?"

"Neurotransmitter potentials in inhibitory neural synapses and latent class-II modifications."

"Which means what?" Alice said, shaking her head.

Edward shrugged. "Nothing really. It's an academic publication, so no real-world applications. A bit of incremental research in a vanishingly narrow specialty, intended for nothing more than to enhance the reputation of the first author among the six people who can understand it."

"So it's not important work, nor could it be connected with the synthesis of a chemical like Rapture?"

He stared at her, his face shocked. "Of course not."


	30. Chapter 30

_Edward_

In the chilly early morning air, Edward sauntered toward one of the back entrances to the school. James was waiting for him, exactly where he had told him to be. James was shifting from foot to foot, but he stepped forward on cue.

"Hey, Cul-Edward."

Edward was amused to note that James almost couldn't get his first name out. "Yes, James."

"I was wondering if you'd have the product ready by tonight." James's words sounded stilted, but that didn't matter. It was the content that counted.

"Don't worry about it, James. It's all taken care of." Edward's voice was clear and carried in the cold, still winter air.

James scowled but didn't miss his final line. "Good. Don't forget the meeting after school today." With that, he moved off as scripted, leaving Edward alone in the quiet passage. He pretended to text, waiting to see if the person he knew was standing just around the corner would approach him.

When nothing happened after a few minutes, he slid his phone back in his pocket and went off to class.

* * *

The bell tinkled when Edward opened the door to the Apricot Apron. He normally never did anything like this. He sent one of his people to fetch anyone he wanted, or ordered them to come to him at his convenience.

He shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. Nothing in the world could have kept him from picking up Bella from work. He had been looking forward to it all day. An added bonus was that the bakery always smelled so rich and satisfying, odors of cinnamon and caramel, chocolate and fresh-baked bread wafting out into the air.

But how would Bella react to the little scene he had set up? Was it too much for her with her strict family upbringing and moral code? Would she push him away? Had he made a mistake in forcing the truth, or at least part of it, down her throat? He frowned as an unaccustomed twinge quickened his heartbeat.

He couldn't bear it if she rebuffed him.

The tiny, wrinkled woman behind the cash register beamed at him, one hand brushing her salt-and-pepper cap of hair.

"Why, hello there, Edward. Are you here to take my sweetest employee away?" Her eyelashes dipped in what could have been flirtatiousness if she were half a century younger, and her cheeks reddened slightly at the sight of him.

He ran fingers through tousled hair, adjusted his glasses and flashed her a shy, crooked smile. "It's good to see you, Mrs. Rojas. Yes, I'm here for Bella. Is her shift over yet?"

She dropped one eyelid in a wink and called over her shoulder into the kitchen, "Did you put the maple blackberry scones in the oven, Bella, dear?"

"Almost done, Mrs. Rojas." Bella stood in front of the stainless steel oven door, her glossy chestnut hair bound up in a white net and her creamy skin standing out against the brown fabric of her shirt. A white cotton apron, streaked with chocolate and raspberry smears, was wrapped tightly around her slender waist, emphasizing her curvy figure. She shook a few strands of hair out of her eyes and wiped a hand on her apron. A wispy line of white powder arched across one cheekbone. "I'm just dusting them with powdered sugar now." She slid the tray of scones into the oven and stood on tiptoes to set the temperature.

Mrs. Rojas ushered Edward into the back room. "You have a visitor, dear." Her hip just grazed his leg as they passed through the narrow door. Her cheeks flamed.

Edward smirked. Bella teased him that he encouraged Marisol Rojas too much in her little crush on him, but everything went so much more smoothly when he bestowed just a tiny bit of attention. It was all innocent of course. The poor woman probably hadn't got it on in two decades.

"She'll be ready for you in a minute, Edward. Our Bella, she's so smart. Did you know she figured out a way to get better texture in our buttermilk biscuits? Now they're so flaky the customers can't get enough of them." She patted Bella's arm. "What was it, folding and pinching the dough by hand and changing the temperature by fifty degrees did what?"

"It allowed the Maillard reaction to proceed more efficiently and the gluten chains in the dough to set up," she explained. "Baking is really just chemistry."

Mrs. Rojas pinched Edward's cheek. "Chemistry! Did you hear that? And did you know that our little Bella wants to be a chemist?" She shook her head. "All that baking talent, wasted in some lab." She wagged a finger at Edward. "You make sure to talk her out of it, you hear?"

She untied her apron and bustled back to the cash register. "You two take some time together, I'm off to the bank with the deposits. I'll lock the door."

She winked at Edward. The bakery door chimed as she left.

Alone in the wide kitchen lined with trays of crisp, flaky scones and succulent dark chocolate squares topped with fresh raspberries, Edward reached for Bella. "It smells wonderful in here."

"I just put some scones in the oven. No, wait, don't touch me—"

He had already enveloped Bella and her messy apron in a close embrace. His fingers trailed over her exposed arms, and he pulled her head in to lie against his chest. "The scones smell good too." He buried his nose in her hair, one hand stroking down her back and dipping just a little too far over her softly rounded ass.

She tried to pull away but his arms encircled her like steel. "You'll get powdered sugar all over your clothes," she warned.

It was too late. His elegant black silk shirt had been dusted with a light sprinkling of white.

"Do I look like I care?" He cupped her face in his hands. "I've missed you."

"It's been like what, six hours since I saw you last?" She drew away from him and put floury hands on her hips.

"Feels more like forever," he said, feeling an unexpected pang. She was upset, deeply upset, about his activities. He didn't want to manipulate her, but maybe just a little would be necessary.

He couldn't bear to lose her.

"Do you really like being covered in powdered sugar?" she asked.

He glanced down at his speckled sleeves and got a gleam in his eye. "Hmmm. Never thought about it before, but it does sound tasty." He ran the tip of his tongue slowly and deliberately across his lips and backed her against the bulletin board, just out of sight of the glass front door, arms on either side of her, boxing her in so she couldn't escape. He ran one finger down her pearly throat, savoring the quiver of her skin beneath his touch. She was so innocent and yet so feisty. He wanted her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything before.

She swallowed, obviously steeling herself.

He waited.

"Edward. You're a member, aren't you."

"A member? Of what?" he drawled, the picture of nonchalance. He unbuttoned the top of her blouse and stroked her soft skin. He hooked one finger under her apron and ran it back and forth over the warm silk of her breast. "Let's see. What if we took everything off of you except this apron and rolled you in sugar?"

Bella's lips parted and her breathing quickened. Desire flashed in her eyes, raw and hot. But she took hold of his wrists and held them. "That gang. Volterra. I saw you talking to them. I heard what you said to them." Her nostrils flared. She took a step forward and stood toe to toe with him. "Don't lie to me!"

He stepped back and put some space between them, studying her face. This was the critical moment. He had to persuade her. He had to.

His voice was calm and sincere when he spoke. "I never said I wasn't a gang member when we talked earlier. I may have evaded your questions, but I never lied to you directly." He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I apologize for misleading you." He took a deep breath and his voice became sad. "But I was so afraid I would lose you if you knew, and I couldn't bear that."

She froze, conflicting emotions passing across her face like clouds in a high storm. Her face softened. "Edward, I— please don't worry that you'll lose me. But you have to explain."

"I promise I'll explain everything. I'll tell you the whole truth. There's a reason behind everything I did." He ran a finger down her cheek. "Everything," he whispered against her ear. He pressed himself against her, body to body, length to length, and her pulse accelerated.

They drew apart, and she wetted her lips and unconsciously deepened the valley between her breasts, drawing her arms together.

His heart leaped in his chest. She was wavering. Now was the time to go straight to the primal urges, the deep-seated desires he had been the first to waken in her.

There was nothing like sexual arousal to sweep away rationality—or doubt.

To his surprise, he felt something odd. Unpleasant. Could it be a judgment of his own behavior? He didn't want to manipulate the woman he cared for like this.

It was _wrong_.

He shook his head mentally. He had never used that word except in derision before.

But he pushed away the tiny voice. He had to.

"So you admit you're a gang member?" Her eyes were wide.

He couldn't lose her. He wouldn't.

He moved closer, his eyes holding hers prisoner. He tipped his head and allowed his eyes to swirl and darken with lust, noting her tiny intake of breath, her deepening flush.

"And if I am?" He shrugged. "You already knew I wasn't the good boy I appear to be," he whispered, lowering his lips to hers. He kissed the left side of her mouth, then the right. She was trembling under his touch but made no move to push him away. Instead, she arched her back slightly and lifted her hips into his.

"I'm not a good person, Bella," he said. "But maybe being good isn't everything, is it?" He brushed his fingers over her nipples, feeling them harden under the rough fabric of the apron. "What did being good ever do for you?" He ran his fingers over the scar on her hand.

She shook herself violently. "Nothing." Her eyes glittered up at him. She lay back against the wall and bared her neck to him, panting, every part of her body softening and opening to him.

He took her lips in his, driving his tongue deep into her velvet mouth. Hesitant at first, she kissed him back, her tongue curling gently under his as he took command of her body.

"So sweet," he murmured. "I'm going to lick you all over, starting with here—" He leaned in and glided his tongue along her cheek, across her lips, and down her throat. "And here." His lips were at her ear. "You already have powdered sugar inside the shell of your ear," he whispered.

Her breathing was quick and heated. "Mrs. Rojas will come back any second."

"No, she won't. She always takes exactly forty-five minutes to make the deposits. That's plenty of time." He was so hungry for her he could barely stand it. With a single pull he untied the bow at the back of her apron and slid her blouse off her shoulders. Her bare flesh was rosy in the sweet warm air of the kitchen and the black lace bra just barely contained the swell of her generous breasts.

Her lips were swollen, lush and shiny as sugared cherries. She gazed up at him, those once-innocent eyes dark with lust. A smirk crooked the corner of his mouth. "You knew from the beginning I would corrupt you, Bella," he said. "Admit it. It's why you said yes to me in the first place."

She bit her lip and said nothing. Then she reached out and grabbed his shirt with tiny, eager hands.

He unfastened her bra with one hand and let the softness of her breasts spring free. She stood bare-chested and wanton in the middle of the stainless steel kitchen, a blush spreading across her cheeks and down her throat as he undressed her, peeling the layers of fabric away from her body languorously, taking his time to caress every inch of her exposed flesh.

Slowly, teasingly, he kissed his way across her satin skin and sucked one erect nipple into his mouth. Bella hissed and ground her hips into his, parting her thighs. He knew she could feel the hardness between his legs rocking into her heated core. His mouth feasted on her milky expanse of bare skin.

"And now you're going to let me have you right here, in the middle of your employer's kitchen, precisely because you know you shouldn't."

Bella drew in her breath and her gaze transformed to molten gold. She lifted her face up to his, something unspeakable and wanton clouding her eyes. "Do whatever you want with me."


	31. Chapter 31

_Edward_

There was a pounding on the bakery door.

Bella stood up so fast her head banged into Edward's chin. Her face was bright red, her eyes wide.

"Ignore it," he ordered.

She shook her head. She was already throwing on her clothes with trembling hands. "No, no, I have to—we shouldn't be doing this, it's a health code violation." She looked around frantically, found her shirt and finished buttoning it up.

Edward leaned on the wall and watched, amused.

The pounding continued. "Hey!" called a voice from outside. "I need to pick up my order."

Bella tied her apron. "Do I look okay?" she asked Edward.

He gave her a slow once-over from head to toe. "Perfect."

She blushed, and then ran to the front. The bell jingled. "I'm so sorry, sir, please come in."

"What's wrong with you?" a male voice whined. "I can't believe you made me wait at the door for five minutes. I'm a busy man. I've got important things to do."

Edward moved to the front counter and smiled at the customer. "Why don't you let me ring you up while Bella gets your order, sir?"

"After that poor service, you should give me a discount," the man huffed. "I should report you to your manager," he shouted at Bella, who was running around in the back gathering items.

Edward took the man's credit card and ran his fingers over the raised letters on the front. "I'll need to see a picture ID, please." His eyes raked over the man's face, and he smiled pleasantly. "All finished, sir."

Bella handed him the bag and the man left. A line creased her forehead. "I hope he's not too mad," she said. "I don't want to lose Mrs. Rojas a customer."

Edward gave her a dark smile. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

His cell phone buzzed. A slight frown crossed his face as he read the text. His thumbs flicked over the keyboard. "I'm sorry, Bella, there's an emergency I have to deal with." He took her in his arms. "We're still on for tonight though, aren't we?"

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"This new club is supposed to be the hottest thing."

She knit her brow. "It's too expensive. Those downtown clubs are for rich kids, not us."

He kissed the top of her head. "Why shouldn't we have whatever we want?"

"Edward—"

"I have money tonight."

"You always have money," she said, frowning.

"Come on, it'll be fun."

* * *

 _Bella_

I walked home from the bakery, my emotions in a muddle. It got dark early this time of year in Forks, and a light, chill rain had begun to fall. I wrapped my rain jacket more tightly around my body. Being with Edward was always exciting but terribly confusing. I didn't even really know what I thought or what I wanted.

How could I go out with a gang member? It went against everything I had been brought up to value.

But the thought of breaking up with Edward was even worse.

What was he really doing for that gang?

An all-too-familiar dark Plymouth Valiant pulled up beside me in the gloom, wipers swishing. The window rolled down. "Hey, darling," Emmett called to me. "Let me give you a ride home."

I only hesitated a moment. I was cold, and he was Edward's best friend, wasn't he?

He had the heater turned up full, and I couldn't help relaxing in the sudden heat. I leaned back against the velveteen headrest. Emmett grinned. "Kind of a bad night, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I said.

He studied me sidelong and pulled out into traffic. "You look a little tense. Is there anything wrong?"

I stiffened. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

"Have it your way." We stopped at a red light. He palmed the steering wheel and took out a joint. "Do you mind? I've had a stressful week too."

I was going to protest, and then I shrugged. Weed was legal now in this state, and I would be a hypocrite if I scolded someone about breaking the law when my boyfriend had just admitted to me he was a member of a gang of criminals doing who knows what. I twisted to face the window.

His lighter flared, and a tangy burning scent filled the car.

"What does it feel like?" I asked suddenly.

"What?" he asked, exhaling.

"Smoking." I gestured at his joint.

His eyes crinkled almost shut and his mouth stretched in a wide grin. "It feels awesome, Bella, so relaxing. As though all my cares are floating away. But it doesn't make me stumble around like I do after a bottle of whiskey."

I stared at him. If I was now the girlfriend of a gang member, I should do something reckless. "Can I have a hit?"

His mouth dropped open in an "O" of surprise. "Why Bella, don't you know that's illegal? You're underage."

I scowled. "Don't be an idiot. Let me try."

"You do look tense. Maybe it'll help you relax."

He watched, amused, as I awkwardly sucked on the joint and coughed. The smoke was harsh and burned all the way down my throat. "You have to hold it in your lungs to get the full effect," he said.

I coughed some more. "I don't feel anything." Other than a sore throat.

He laughed and pulled out a paper bag wrapped around a bottle. "If you're going to be bad, might as well go all the way. You'll certainly feel it if you have a little of this."

He watched as I took a swig right from the mouth of the bottle.

"Oh, someone's gonna enjoy that party tonight."

* * *

 _Edward_

A cold splatter of rain dimpled the puddles tucked between uneven sidewalk slabs on the dark side street. Edward skirted the pools of light cast by streetlamps and strode towards a flickering red neon sign that spelled out "BAR." He pulled open the heavy door and breathed in a damp, warm lungful of stale smoke and cheap beer.

Passing a few silent patrons, Edward ambled past the bar stools that had worn holes into the linoleum and slid into a booth at the very back. Two minutes after his order was taken, a tall, pale man in a black raincoat dropped into the dark red seat across from him.

Edward tilted his head in greeting and continued sipping his whisky. "Caius."

"Grant's Scotch," Caius murmured to the waitress who appeared to take his order. He waited until she had disappeared through the swinging door. Then he leaned forward and spoke in a soft voice. "We want you to step up your levels of distribution. Everything is going well so we want you to expand your reach."

Edward took a sip from his glass and set it down on the formica table with a clink. "I don't want my operation to become overextended. I've even been thinking of cutting back."

"You don't have a choice in the matter."

Edward raised one brow. "Oh? I agreed to work with you as a partner, not a subordinate."

Caius looked down his long nose at him. "I'm not so sure that's the case any more."

"I'm an independent operator," Edward said coolly. "You need me, not the other way around."

Caius leaned forward and captured Edward's eyes with his own. "But you see, we finally have what we need to bring the brilliant Edward Cullen under our control. Permanently." His smile was cruel.

Edward scoffed but he didn't take his eyes off Caius. "No one controls me."

"Leverage." Caius tossed a photo across the table. "Perhaps you've heard of the word?"

Edward's eyes dipped to the photo. It was Bella at the door of her apartment building, and from what she was wearing, that very morning. His heart began to pound but he kept his face impassive from long practice. He forced his eyes away from the image and back to Caius.

"So? You should know me better than that. I care about no one."

"We now have a way to reach her at any time, anywhere. To snuff out her life from a distance. You will be unable to protect her."

Edward's hands clenched under the table. "She is nothing to me."

"We want you to double the amount of product you move within the next two weeks."

"You don't want me as an enemy."

Caius stood. He sneered down at Edward. "You are so arrogant. Remember you are only a boy and we have been in this business since before you were born. And now you've gotten in over your head. I suggest you do the intelligent thing and obey us." His nostrils flared. "Think on it carefully. Do you really want to pay the price?"

Caius glided out of the bar. The door slammed behind him, a swirl of cold damp air left in his wake.

Alone at the table, Edward stared fixedly at the far wall, turning his glass in his hands.

His decision should be easy. What did Edward Cullen care for the life of any human being?

Bella had brought light and innocence into his dark world. She had made him remember a childhood he had never had, the simple pleasures that had been torn away from him.

She had opened his heart. Made him feel emotions he had thought lost to him forever.

But…

He had selfishly only considered the effect _she_ had on _him_.

It had never occurred to him that he would draw her into his darkness, that the gravitational pull of his black hole would overwhelm her bright star.

But he should have known.

What a blind and selfish idiot he had been.

He didn't know the nature of the threat Caius was making. Some slow-acting poison? An agent within his own gang? But it didn't matter.

It was his fault. It was all his fault. He was the one who had placed her at risk.

His chest heaved. His fingers clenched slowly on his shot glass.

No.

He couldn't let her be harmed.

No matter what.


	32. Chapter 32

_Edward_

The Vampire's Kiss was the newest—and hottest—club in downtown Forks. The line snaked halfway around the block, and two huge bouncers stood at the wide doors checking IDs.

Edward sauntered to the front of the line and was waved in. Emmett had brought Bella earlier and had made sure she had appropriate ID.

Inside it was all dark elegance and decadent ambience, antique mirrors lining the walls and pounding music pulsing across the dance floor. Edward made his way through the gyrating crowd to the VIP lounge at the back.

There the beat was more muted. Bodies writhed in the dim light, draped over brocaded divans scattered over the plush carpet. Edward's eyes immediately went to the far corner. Emmett sat there on a settee, and beside him, slumped in a boneless pile, lay Bella.

Edward strode across the room, his eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded.

Hearing his voice, Bella's head jerked up and she raised her arms. "Edward," she slurred, "C'mere." She giggled. "Oh you are a beautif-beautiful man." She shook her head. "It's too bad, too bad." Tears dripped down her cheeks.

Edward's eyes flashed and he glared at Emmett. "You were supposed to take care of her."

"He did take care of me," insisted Bella, snuffling. "He showed me everything."

Emmett blinked rapidly. "You told me to give her what she wanted. I was just fol-doing what you said."

Edward grabbed Emmett's lapels. "You bastard," he hissed.

Emmett's eyes widened at Edward's uncharacteristic display of anger. "It's true!" He raised his hands defensively. "She wanted it. She asked for a toke and I tried to say no but she kept on asking." He glanced at Bella for confirmation.

"Thass' right," Bella said, nodding vigorously, almost falling off the couch in another fit of giggles. Edward caught her before she struck the ground. He peeled back one of her eyelids.

"This is much more than just a toke."

"Well," Emmett appeared only partially abashed. "She wanted something to drink to cool her throat. And after that she wanted more of a buzz."

"So you've just been pouring drugs into her all evening?" Edward's voice was icy now, the calm and cold tone all his subordinates knew and feared.

"I was just trying to make her happy. You said I should make her happy."

Edward's grip tightened on the limp and giggling Bella in his arms. His nostrils flared. Was Emmett the traitor? Was this a scene staged for his benefit?

Emmett was avoiding eye contact. "You've been with girls this wasted before. I didn't think it would matter. She's having a good time. Besides, she was acting kinda tense and sad. She needed something to take the edge off."

Edward's hands clenched. He stared at the semi-conscious woman in his embrace. The chemicals coursing through her body had taken something away from her, had taken that bright spark that was quintessentially Bella.

But what had _he_ taken from her?

He had taken her innocence, exposed her to threats of death, and involved her in the drug scene that had claimed so many casualties.

He, himself, had been the direct cause of so many of those casualties.

He had always insisted that drug abuse was a victimless crime, had told himself that dealers were only providing people what they wanted, that it was an individual choice to ingest chemicals, to seek that elusive pleasure or escape from an unhappy life.

But _he_ had been the one who had made Bella unhappy. It was the conflict between her strict upbringing, the moral code she had lived by all her life, and the sudden awareness that her boyfriend was a gang member. A drug dealer and criminal. It was too much.

And now, choosing to intoxicate herself would make her doubly vulnerable. If Caius had something on her, if Emmett or another of his trusted lieutenants was an agent for him, she would need to be strong. Sharp. At her best.

It was his fault. Again. A knife twisted in his gut. He couldn't recall feeling this way before. Such intense regret. It had been a very long time since he had felt anything so extreme...

* * *

His hands and arms had been bandaged and he had been left sitting in a small room scattered with cheap plastic toys. The social worker had gone into another office to make a phone call, but he snuck after her to listen.

"Hello, may I speak with Victoria Cullen?" the social worker said into the speakerphone.

"Speaking," came a clipped voice from the phone.

"Ms. Cullen, this is Nancy Wilson from Forks Social Services. I want to let you know that I'm very sorry about the loss of your brother Carlisle."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. "Let me assure you, your concern is misplaced. As I told the police yesterday, I haven't been in touch with my brother for years, not since he married that trollop. I'm not going to pretend to grieve about him."

"…I understand, Ms. Cullen. However, there are a few things we'd like to discuss with you."

Silence.

"Ms. Cullen?"

"Yes, I heard you. Listen, I'm about to leave for an important appointment, and I spoke to the police at length already. Can't you talk about this with them?"

"Ms. Cullen, I'm afraid there are some matters I need to discuss with you. As you are aware, your brother's wife and daughter have also passed away."

The voice on the other end of the line sounded impatient. "I told you, I never had contact with his wife, and I've never met his daughter. I'm sorry about all this, but I can't be late for this appointment."

"Ms. Cullen, please don't hang up yet. You see, his five-year-old son survived, and you are next-of-kin."

More silence. "I didn't even know he had a son."

"Yes, he did. His name is Edward, and he is going to need a home."

This time the silence stretched out for a long while. "If you're asking what I think you are, I'm afraid that's not possible. I'm about to take a position that may require a lot of travel, and I won't be able to take care of a child."

"Ms. Cullen, I'm sorry, but as the next-of-kin, you are now the legal guardian of your nephew. If you wish to put him up for adoption, you may, but at this point it is your responsibility to take care of him until the paperwork goes through."

"What?" The voice rose. "I can't take care of a child! This is ridiculous, to foist this sudden responsibility on me without so much as a warning!"

"Ms. Cullen, I'm very sorry, but can't you please think of the child?"

Agitated breathing was audible on the other end of the line.

"He's in the Forks Social Services office right now, but we are unable to provide further care, and it would be very helpful if you could pick him up this afternoon."

"Impossible." There was the sound of pages flipping. "I've checked my calendar, and I can't pick him up before Wednesday. What did you say the address was again?"

Edward crept away, back to the room where he had been waiting. He sat again in the little chair, rested his bandaged arms on the scuffed formica table, and laid his head in his arms.

* * *

"He's a beautiful child," Nancy said to her colleague when she thought he wasn't listening.

"I know, with those gorgeous eyes, that thick coppery hair, and such a well-behaved, obviously intelligent child." The colleague clicked her tongue. "So tragic."

"I'm hoping once the aunt sees him, she'll change her mind about keeping him. It would be a shame for him to go into the system." Nancy shot a sidelong glance at her colleague. "It always worries me when an exceptionally beautiful child goes into foster care. Sometimes they seem to bring out the worst in people."

The other woman tightened her lips. "Nancy, you shouldn't be talking like that. I'm sure he'll be fine."

When Nancy spoke again, her voice sounded tired. "I know I shouldn't say anything, but after what happened to little Rosalie Hale, I…"

"You can't keep beating yourself up about her. That couple had an impeccable record as foster parents. No one could have predicted what happened."

Nancy rested her head on the back of her chair. "I know. I just wish…" Then she shook her head. "I can't help worrying about what might be. About what the future might hold for that little guy."

She glanced at the boy in the waiting room. He was trying to play with a toy dollhouse. There was a doll family inside, a set of cheap plastic manikins. The boy's hand crept forward. He picked up the mother doll and stared into her painted face, his eyes round, turning her slowly back and forth, running his fingers through her hair.

One little hand rubbed his eyes, but he didn't cry.


	33. Chapter 33

_Edward_

The corridor leading to the private rooms was dimly lit by wall sconces placed at long intervals. A faint scent of incense wafted through the hall and the thumping music sounded far away. Edward carried Bella in his arms and Emmett trailed along behind. Bella's eyes were closed and her face was flushed. Her pores had opened and her sweet scent tickled Edward's nose. Edward tucked her head into his chest and her thick, long hair trailed over his hands and forearms.

Emmett unlocked one of the rooms.

"Guard the door," Edward ordered, his face stern.

Emmett nodded, his pulse visible in his throat. Edward twisted away from him. He would deal with him later. Let him wait, and worry about the consequences of his actions.

Edward entered the room, shouldering the door closed, and placed Bella on the bed. Her head lolled to one side, and he brushed away a few strands of hair from her face. He tucked her hair behind her ears and ran his fingers through her damp locks. She murmured in her sleep and rolled into his touch. He opened the first few buttons of her blouse to make her more comfortable, his fingers brushing along the rosy skin at her throat and neckline.

He sat back and gazed at her. She was beautiful even unconscious, her face in repose the picture of innocence, her long dark lashes folded over her cheeks, her lips lush and sweet as berries.

Emmett was right, he thought with sudden bitterness. He had slept with girls nearly this inebriated before. Of course, they had always been more than willing. He had made sure of it, finding the idea of compelling any woman into bed with him distasteful.

But still, he had thought little of them beyond satisfying his own desires.

He rose from the bed abruptly. His former behavior repulsed him. The idea of having sexual desire for anyone other than Bella seemed ludicrous now. And even the suggestion of making love to her while she was in this condition was deeply upsetting.

All he wanted to do now was care for her.

He carefully folded back the sheets and slid her legs in underneath the blanket. He took off her shoes one at a time and tenderly kissed her bare toes. They wiggled under his touch and he couldn't help chuckling. He folded the blankets over her and tucked her in.

He sat by the side of the bed. Normally he would have been out and about his business by now, leaving someone behind to guard Bella while he accomplished more important tasks.

But now nothing seemed more important than guarding her, than staying by her side to protect her.

He dropped his head into his hands. What had he gotten himself into?

He glanced up at Bella lying nearly insensate in the bed and his hands clenched. It was wrong. It was wrong for her to have taken those drugs. It was harmful to her.

Drug dealing was not such a victimless crime, it seemed.

Had his actions been harming innocents after all? What would Esme have said? After all, hadn't a drug deal gone wrong taken her from him?

He rubbed a hand over his chest, the sudden heaviness strange and overwhelming.

It had never mattered whose lives he ruined, what damage he did, as long as he came out on top and his profits grew. How ironic it was, now that he was finally ready to make different choices, for the first time someone was thwarting his will. He had never thought Caius could gain a hold over him. He had always assumed he was the one using the man and his contacts. Because he was smarter than everybody else. Because he could think rings around them all.

He had been so arrogant.

So blind to whatever he didn't want to see.

Now, however, he needed to reorient all his priorities. He needed to do whatever it took to keep her safe. If it wasn't already too late.

Edward took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. It was time for a new plan. Patience. Patience was his strong suit. He would change everything, but under his own terms.

And he could still outthink everybody else. He could still play the necessary roles. He could still make them fear him. Long enough to give him room to maneuver.

He took out his phone, sent a brief text to Laurent. Then he leaned against the wall and lost himself in thought.

* * *

After a few minutes, Edward opened the door of the private room and glanced into the hall.

Emmett, still on guard at the door, bounced to attention. His face was pale. Behind him, Laurent hovered in the background, lips pressed together sternly.

"Emmett." Edward's face was completely emotionless. It showed nothing of what was in his heart.

Rage. Unreasoning, towering rage, at Caius, at Emmett, at all those who might seek to harm the one woman who had changed everything.

But Emmett knew him well. He swallowed at the expression of icy calm on Edward's face. "Yes, Captain."

"Do you recall how I said that anyone who allowed Bella Swan to come to harm would be punished?"

Emmett's fine hair fell in his eyes. "Yes," he whispered.

"Laurent."

Moisture beaded on Emmett's forehead. Edward nodded casually to Laurent, who took one of Emmett's hands, held it lightly. "You're trembling, Emmett."

"I'm sorry, Captain."

There was no one else in the corridor. Laurent lifted Emmett's hand, and with a single swift motion bent a finger back sharply. The snap was audible even above the beat of the music.

Emmett shrieked and all the blood drained from his face. His uninjured hand clenched.

"You are fortunate, Emmett," Edward murmured, his eyes locked on Emmett's. "Your punishment will heal. But if even the slightest harm comes to Bella under your watch in the future, I won't be so forgiving. Understood?"

Emmett's breath came raggedly as he nursed his injured hand. Laurent stepped back, his face impassive.

"Do you understand, Emmett?"

Laurent moved forward and reached for Emmett's hand again.

Emmett hissed and drew his arm back with a jerk. He found his voice, although he had to try twice. "Y-yes, Captain, I understand. It won't happen again. I swear."

"Make sure of that." Edward turned away, his face indifferent. "You're free to go. Get that injury taken care of."

"Yes, Captain. Thank you, Captain." The last words came out on a whine of pain.

"After that," Edward said, "call a meeting for tomorrow morning. I've decided it's time to take our operation to the next level. Everything is going so well that I convinced our suppliers that we could double or even triple our volume."

* * *

 _James_

Across the street from the club, James waited in a black sedan, windshield wipers swishing, beads of lighted raindrops twirling and sliding across the glass.

Such a boring job. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a glassine envelope and tipped a small amount of white powder onto the web of skin between his thumb and index finger. He pinched one nostril shut and brought his loosely closed fist to his nose.

Sniff.

The powder stung his nose, but by snorting it he avoided the risk of addiction. He straightened, enthusiasm for his task returning.

He was doing all right. The new wads of cash, and best of all, his powerful new contacts, were putting him on the fast track to success. And the stuff was so calming. He was ice cold now. There was no way anyone could detect traitorous emotions from him.

No way would Edward ever know. He was safe now. He was on his way to being more powerful than ever, more powerful even than Edward.

His phone rang.

His new phone.

"Yes, sir?"

He listened closely for a few moments.

"Of course, sir. Right away."


	34. Chapter 34

_Edward_

The early morning light streamed through a gap in Bella's bedroom window curtains, and Edward got up to adjust them so the light wouldn't fall on her face. But at his movement, Bella opened her eyes and squinted up at him.

"What—?" she asked. She shaded her eyes with her hand, her features contorted. "Ughh."

He sat beside her on the bed and stroked her hair back from her face. "I brought you home last night. How are you feeling?"

She shook her head and winced at the movement. The sight of her so pale and ill-looking roused strange feelings in his chest. She shouldn't be in such a condition.

No one should be.

He tipped a couple of Alka-Seltzer tablets into a large glass of water. "Here. Drink this; it'll help."

She reached out a shaking hand, and he propped her up and placed a couple of pillows behind her head. She clasped the fizzing glass in her hands and stared into the bubbles, then took a slow sip, grimacing.

"The most important thing is to drink plenty of fluids; you're dehydrated and liquid will help flush out your system."

Her hands shook a little. "The room is spinning."

He wrapped an arm around her and held her tightly. "Keep drinking and it will settle you. I've got a mango smoothie for you in the refrigerator. That'll get your blood sugar up. Remember, plenty of liquids."

After a while, a little color returned to her cheeks and she sagged against the pillows. He took the empty glass from her hand and she rested her cheek against his thigh. "Thank you."

He shook his head. "Thanking me is the last thing you should be doing."

"I feel…" she whispered, "so awful."

He stroked one hand gently over her forehead. "You'll promise me, won't you, that you won't take any more drugs?"

She snorted and then grimaced. "Aren't you being a hypocrite?"

He smiled. "I prefer to say that I've had a revelation and a change of heart."

Her eyes widened. "You're going to give it up? I mean, your gang membership?"

He combed his fingers through her hair a moment. What could he tell her? "As soon as I can. You do realize it's not something that I can simply walk away from."

"But you will, right?"

He took her hand. "Of course."

"And you'll stop lying to me?"

He wanted to kiss away the distress in her voice. "Will you at least let me explain?"

"Explain? What is there to explain?"

Edward took her in his arms and gently kissed her forehead. "Please, Bella. All I'm asking for is a hearing. Just give me that chance, please?" He held her at arms' length, eyes intense and just a little distressed.

He didn't want to lie to her.

But he had to. Not only would the truth drive her to more poor decisions, but there was Caius to worry about.

It was just for a little while. Just till he could get things straightened out. Just to keep her safe. Both from her own poor choices and from the threat from Caius. And maybe he could minimize the damage. Not lie to her directly. Just… twist the truth slightly.

He had to.

"If you'll remember, I never said I wasn't a gang member when we talked earlier. I may have evaded your questions, but I never lied to you directly." He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I apologize for misleading you." He took a deep breath and his voice became sad. "It was a terrible mistake, and I hope the price I have to pay isn't the loss of your trust." His arms tightened around her. "But I was so afraid I would lose you if you knew, and I couldn't bear that."

"You should have trusted me enough to tell me."

"Volterra has such a bad reputation. Would you really have been willing to see me if you knew?"

"Don't you trust that my feelings for you are strong enough?"

He challenged, "Are they really? Despite everything this gang does?"

It was Bella's turn to drop her eyes.

He said, "Just let me explain, okay? I'll tell you what I've never told anyone else."

She rubbed a hand over her eyes and sank more deeply into the pillows. Her face, turned to his, was so sweet, so trusting.

Edward took a tight grip on his emotions. He was doing this for her.

He would become worthy of her trust someday.

"You probably know that my family doesn't have much money. I don't like to talk about it much, and I'm not going to tell you about my family life because it would upset you. But let's just say that there is no money for clothes or books, and barely enough for housing and food. Sometimes not even that." He studied her upturned face. She was quiet now, listening. "I pretty much had to steal or beg for everything. My aunt wouldn't even fill out the paperwork to get help for me from the state.

"I started out trying to do everything legally. I tried to find a job. Even when I was very young, there are many jobs I could have done as well or better as any adult. But everywhere I was stymied by laws." His arms tightened around her. "They said I was too young to work. I told you when we first met, didn't I? Teenagers are second-class citizens. We don't have the basic rights that convicted criminals have."

"But—" Bella tried to interrupt, but he was staring off into the distance, his cheeks flushed.

"Imagine how I felt when they wouldn't let me register for high school classes because I hadn't paid the fee for a lost textbook that someone had stolen from me. It was twenty dollars. Twenty dollars." His voice rose. "The only way out of poverty in this country is education, Bella, and they were taking that away from me too."

"Couldn't you—wasn't there anyone who could help you?" she asked in a small voice.

His lips twisted in a snarl. " _Help_ me? You know how many students are assigned to each counselor at our school, don't you? Three hundred. And in the one fifteen-minute appointment I got with a counselor, he spent most of the time on an online job site. Said he couldn't support his family on his salary." He jerked his shoulders. "They always claim there's plenty of help for the poor in this country, but there really isn't, and what little there is only if you have an adult willing to work the system for you."

He felt his heart beating rapidly against her body. He took a deep breath, calming himself. "Anyway," he went on, once more in a quiet, contained voice, "I was fourteen and had just entered high school, but I was already taking the advanced organic chemistry class. I enjoyed the synthesis of compounds in the lab. I would stay in the lab after school and work on independent projects." He paused. "One day, someone approached me with a proposition. It seemed he had heard of my prowess in chemical synthesis."

She sucked in her breath.

"They offered me a job, purifying certain chemicals for them. The money was more than I'd ever seen or even heard of before. Can you understand what that meant to me?"

He cupped both hands around her face. "It turned out that a lot of the stories about Volterra were just that: stories. They wanted to build up a scary reputation, so they themselves made up many of the rumors."

Bella shook her head. "But what about all the gang violence we're always hearing about?"

"I won't say it doesn't happen," Edward continued in his most reasonable and soft voice. "But Volterra mostly spreads rumors to scare people and keep them in line."

Another thought struck her and she drew away from him, stiffening. "You're not—you're not one of those—'Guards', are you?"

"No. No, I promise you, Bella, I am not one of the Guards." He pressed her head to his chest and stroked her hair. "So can you possibly forgive me?"

"I—I don't know," she mumbled with her face pressed into his shirt. "Are you really sure they're not as bad as everyone says?"

"I'm absolutely certain," he said. "And what's more, I'm applying to colleges this fall; I'm hoping to get a scholarship to a good university, and when I do, I'm leaving all this behind me." He took her head in both hands, sincerity shining in his eyes. "In a few more months, I'm going to turn over a new leaf and start a respectable life. I hope I can make you proud of me, Bella." He kissed her gently and slowly, gradually felt her relax.

He bent his head and kissed her along her jawline and down her neck. She twined her arms around his shoulders and lifted her mouth to meet his. As they kissed, longer and deeper, he gently lowered her down on the bed.

"Shhh," he said. "Rest now."

Every word he said had seemed to twist within him. But it was necessary. Just for now. Just for a little while longer, until he could figure out how to deal with his problems, once and for all.

He would kill Caius. And everyone involved in the development and synthesis of Rapture. It was no longer just for himself. It was a public service, he told himself. Look at all the deaths they had been responsible for.

Once they were all taken care of, he would leave the gang. He would figure out a way to do that too.

He would leave his past behind. He would start a new life with Bella. She would never need to know what he had done.

And then he realized.

He was going to have to tell her everything. He was going to have to stop lying.

If that was the case, he couldn't kill Caius. He stopped, surprised at his own thoughts. Was he really going to change his actions just because of what Bella would think?

Yes. Yes he was.

He was going to have to figure out something different. A way to stop them that did not involve cold-blooded killing.

But even if he changed completely, could Bella possibly forgive his past? He, who had never known fear before, felt an icy chill strike his chest. What if, when he told her the truth, she rejected him?

What if she left him?


	35. Chapter 35

_Security guard Bonner / Edward_

It was late and Hyman Bonner was tired. The guard yawned and shuffled his feet under the desk. Night shift at the security gate to Volturi Pharmaceuticals was unbelievably boring. He scanned the bank of video monitors, checking for activity. Nothing.

The glass front doors of the building slid open and Bonner came to attention. He glanced at the verification unit on his desk. At the ID displayed, he stiffened.

"Good evening, Mr. Cullen," he said, avoiding the intern's eyes.

Edward nodded, a pleasant smile on his face. "Good evening, Mr. Bonner," he said, and passed through the central doors.

Bonner stared after him, his heart pounding. Then he swiveled to the bank of monitors and carefully rewound the video to delete the last few minutes. He pivoted his chair to the computer that stored all entries to the building. Carefully, his big fingers clumsy on the keyboard, he typed in a sequence of keys that would erase the last ID verification. Then he painstakingly checked his work a second time, making sure everything was done correctly. Finally, after verifying that Edward's entry to the building had been completely removed, he leaned back with a heavy sigh.

His heart thumped in his chest. He was in so much trouble.

It had started with only the smallest of thefts from the lab. Nothing anyone would miss. Hey, the company only paid him minimum wage so it wasn't his fault he needed to supplement his income. Liquor and cigarettes were expensive.

But somehow the mild-looking student intern had found out. One night, a few months ago, Edward had invited him out for a beer after work.

Edward had gently inquired about the thefts, then listened intently to his woes, his face full of sympathy and concern. "Have you ever considered taking on a second job?" he asked softly as Bonner finished another beer. Bonner belched in satisfaction, thumping the mug down on the scarred table.

"Who'd hire me?" He shrugged. "I don't even have a degree."

"I can think of a job for which you're perfectly suited," Edward murmured.

"Yeah? What?"

"I have something I need some help with. And it doesn't require a degree. What I need is someone discreet and absolutely trustworthy."

So it had begun. At first, it had been fairly simple. Edward paid him cash to ignore certain of his late night entrances. Bonner was nervous, but Edward explained it was all perfectly innocuous. He was working hard on a project. As a student, he wasn't allowed to work overtime, and he really needed to spend the extra hours in the lab without anyone knowing. That had seemed fine—at first.

But then Edward had begun to bring non-employees to the lab at night, and asked for more of the security codes.

Now, Bonner was in way too deep. If he was ever caught, he would go to jail. Not to mention some of the things he had seen—things that indicated there was much more going on at Volturi Pharmaceuticals than he had ever suspected.

He was afraid that sooner or later, someone would think Hyman Bonner had seen too much.

* * *

 _Edward_

Edward noted Bonner's distress, but the night guard seemed under control. His careful planning was paying off. He had networks of informants and agents within most of the organizations he dealt with. It would be helpful now, as he put his new designs into effect. He walked into the synthesis lab and put on a lab coat. 1:30 AM. He had spent the day thinking and planning, and had a long night of work ahead of him.

He went straight to the computer and typed "aro." When queried for the password, he paused a moment, musing, then typed in a string of characters.

The screen remained blank for an instant.

Then it displayed the login message, and he smiled.

He pulled up several documents and log files of previous experiments. He paused briefly as he came to a directory containing drafts of the paper Alice had mentioned earlier. His eyes narrowed. The research for that paper had been performed almost entirely by him. Marcus and Aro had led him through the work, encouraged him to work with the chemicals that would lead to more addictive precursors. They had promised him that the credentials the purely academic research would generate would lead to a better future for him and help him get into top colleges.

But when it came time to get it published, Marcus had insisted that they put Aro's name first as the owner of the company, then Marcus's as the senior scientist. Edward shrugged. That hurt his pride but the smart move was to let the slight pass. And indeed, it ended up better that no one knew of his hand in the work.

That research did indeed have a connection to Rapture. The cops were too stupid to understand the chemistry, but the reagents described in that piece of research were precursors for Rapture. After the work was completed, Aro had apparently jokingly proposed that they could try to use it to prop up the faltering sales of his company.

Edward, seeking to expand his influence, had offered his services as a distributor. It had all happened very quickly after that. Aro had many contacts in the drug subculture, shady dealers and slimy lawyers who were more than willing to provide extra-legal services for inflated prices. Edward had found that his own gang had rapidly become overextended with the influx of demand for the new drug.

Overly eager to increase his own power and wealth, he had struck deals with people he shouldn't have.

Caius was at the top of that list.

And now – he stared at the blinking cursor on the screen. What could he do now?

Were his mistakes impossible to fix?

He pulled up a shell script from his own directory, keyed in several file names, and set the script running.

Leaning back, he watched as his program ran and text flashed on the screen. The system-level script continued with its work, inserting some files, deleting others, and adjusting modification times so that several timestamps were set back by a few months.

A set of emails flashed across his screen and Edward frowned, pausing the output and scrolling back to read them more carefully.

He pulled up the attached news article, then studied the emailed comments one more time.

His eyes widened and an uncharacteristic bout of pain and fury coursed through him.

Could this possibly be true?

It would change everything.


	36. Chapter 36

_Bella_

Curled up on my couch with my laptop, I read the half-finished essay one more time and grimaced. It sounded dull and pedestrian. How was I ever going to get into a good college if I couldn't even write a coherent essay? All my ideas sounded so trivial. But I didn't want to get into the depths of my family difficulties—not in a college essay that strangers would read.

"What's wrong?" Edward murmured in my ear. "Not going well?" His breath danced lightly over my earlobe and all I wanted was to forget about work and lose myself in him.

Pushing the laptop away, I slid my hands along his muscular forearms and slipped my fingers into his.

Edward had been working on his laptop at the other end of the room. We had gotten in the habit of spending evenings together in my apartment three or four nights a week, since my mother was gone for so long. I wasn't really sure why he had switched from wanting to go out to clubs and fancy restaurants to insisting that we stay at home and hang out together, but I wasn't complaining. Being alone with Edward was more fun than I'd ever had in my life, no matter what we did.

He had decided I needed to learn self-defense. It was silly; he was being overprotective. But I couldn't deny I found his protectiveness a little sweet. Every few nights, despite my protests, he taught me simple hand-to-hand combat and the basics of defending myself from attackers, right there in my living room. Once, he had even taken me to a firing range to teach me how to shoot.

"Edward, I don't want to learn how to use a gun! I never want to hurt another person."

"Even if they attack you first?"

"Maybe I should turn the other cheek."

But Edward was insistent. I suppose it was the world he lived in, where guns and knives were part of everyday life. I ended up going along with it. Edward could be very persuasive.

Plus I had to secretly admit that self-defense practice… was surprisingly erotic. Especially when he pinned me against the ground or the wall, his powerful body pressed against mine, his scent in my nostrils, his arm wrapped around my throat. Was I a bad person to love it when he overpowered me with his casual strength, when he wrapped his long fingers around my neck? I never told him, of course. I didn't want him to think I was a freak.

"Now you do remember how to get out of a headlock, Bella, don't you?" His arms enveloped me, warm steel and satin, and I couldn't help inhaling deeply just so I could breathe in his scent. His hair brushed against the back of my neck, his deep voice vibrating along my skin. He held me so securely, his muscles like heated iron, always exactly at the limit of what might hurt me. Such control. Such potency. Oddly, I felt safe rather than threatened, as I always did in his hands. I trusted him on some primal level, even though I knew he was dangerous. Somehow I was utterly convinced he would never hurt me. Would never let me be hurt.

Maybe I was crazy.

My mind went blank. I clumsily swiveled to one side and swiped ineffectually at his balls.

He sighed. "No. That's not going to work. And then he'll just attack you like this." Quick as lightning, a flurry of strikes came at my face, his leg looped around mine and in a moment I was flat on my back on the couch, the firm flesh of his torso heavy across my hips, his leg lying casually over my core, his face only inches away from mine, his messy hair falling in his eyes.

I couldn't help it. I deliberately licked my lips and cocked my head. A tiny smirk appeared on my face. He stared at me for an instant.

Then he groaned and crashed his lips into mine, his tongue a blazing stroke of heat deep inside my mouth, his hardness pressed into my core. A choked mewl escaped my throat. My nipples hardened under my bra.

He drew back from me, panting, lips swollen and skin flushed. "You'll be the death of me, Bella. I came here to work and somehow you always entice me into bed."

" _I_ entice _you_?" I rolled my eyes. "Somehow I think it's the other way around."

"Let's finish your essay, and then we'll get to work on more enticing." His grin was cocky as he stood up. He reached over and handed me my laptop.

I groaned but opened it up. "I can't seem to get this essay right." I frowned at the screen. "It sounds so boring. I wonder if I'll even get accepted anywhere."

He sat down so that his hip pressed against mine, and put an arm around me. "Let me see."

I moved the laptop away from him. "No. It's too embarrassing."

A playful light entered his eyes. "I could help you with it."

"No. It's supposed to be my own work."

"You surely don't think all those rich kids with ten-thousand-dollar admissions counselors take that seriously?"

"Edward, please don't get started on that. You know it's important to me to play by the rules."

"But Bella, you're deliberately putting yourself at a disadvantage. Haven't you heard about legacy preferences and other advantages for the rich at the Ivy League schools?" He stroked my hair, fingers combing along my scalp. "It's well documented. If you give a large enough donation to Yale, you get in automatically. If you're on the polo team, you can get in to Harvard as an athlete regardless of your scores. How many poor kids play polo in high school? Despite the lies the college admissions officers tell, there's a systematic bias in this country to only admit the elite. I'm not making it up." His voice started to vibrate.

"I know. I know." I smoothed my hands over his face. "I read a couple of articles about it. But it wouldn't feel right if I got into college using any of those tricks."

"Don't you want to go to college with me?"

I tightened my lips. "Of course I want to go with you! I just want to get in fair and square."

"Don't you understand that there is no 'fair and square'? If you don't play the game, you simply won't get in." He took my hand in his, brushed his lips over it. It tingled unreasonably. "I'll miss you."

I drew my hand away. He planned on getting into Harvard, and had already submitted his early-action application. He would be hearing from them by the middle of December, but he seemed to be confident that he would be one of the eight percent admitted to the most elite school in the United States.

Worse, he had hinted that he had somehow done something to make certain that he would be admitted, and that he could do the same for me. What disturbed me most was that I was tempted. I knew that a good college education was the only way I'd have a chance to become a biochemist. And I needed a full ride. My mother had told me there was no money for college. She wanted me to go to work after high school. Although I enjoyed my part-time job at the bakery, I didn't want to work there for the rest of my life. I wanted to learn biochemistry, to put my ideas into practice, and it was depressing to think certain doors might be closed to me simply because I didn't come from a family with money.

Ever since Edward had admitted to me that he was a gang member, that he was doing something involving synthesizing illegal drugs, he had been letting slip all these hints about other illicit operations he was involved in. I wondered if it had been a mistake for me to tell him that I accepted his gang membership.

Edward claimed he would give up all his criminal activities after he started college, but would he? He clearly enjoyed the money. Would he be willing to live like an ordinary college student?

He delighted in breaking the law and defying moral codes. It made him feel that he was putting something over on all those people who had more than he did. He hated the fact that he was a mere high school student, and a poor one at that. He craved status and power, and would do anything to get what he wanted.

Now he wanted me. But what did I want?

I lifted my head. "I'll apply to Harvard, and to a couple other Ivy League schools, even though I don't think I have a chance to get in. But I don't want to go there, really. I want to go to MIT, to study biochemistry." I admired the research of one of the professors in the biochemistry department at MIT and hoped to join his lab. He was conducting studies on disease and aging that I thought could change the world, and I wanted to be a part of it. But it was so difficult to get in.

"Of course I would rather if you came to Harvard with me. But MIT isn't so far away. We could get an apartment together." His eagerness made me want to cry. Realistically, what were the chances we would end up at universities in the same city? If I even got in anywhere I could afford.

I didn't want to spend any more time on those kinds of thoughts.

I lowered my gaze. "If I get in, we can think about it."

His hand crept around mine. "You could live with me even if you didn't get in. I'd be happy to pay for an apartment for both of us. I have enough money to support both of us, Bella."

Could I just stay with him, living off his ill-gotten gains, doing nothing? I shook my head. "I want to be with you, Edward, but I need to be in school. Working is really important to me. I don't want to just be your appendage."

He gathered my hand in both of his. They were warm and all-encompassing. Mine felt small and cold. "Of course, and that matters to me. You have brains and you want to use them." He caressed my hand and a possessive glint appeared in his eyes. "You have to let me help you. Just to even the playing field, nothing more," he said. "I promise I won't do anything to give you an unfair advantage."

I pulled away. "No. Edward, I don't want you doing anything."

"Are you sure?" he teased, a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

"I'm positive. And I don't want you to do something and not tell me. Promise me you won't do anything to help me, even to 'level the playing field' as you say. Promise," I insisted.

He leaned back on the couch and pouted. "All right, if you say so, I promise to be good, Bella."

I shook my head at the mock-sorrowful expression on his face, slammed the laptop shut and slid onto his lap, plunging my hands under the silk of his shirt, feeling his abs ripple beneath my fingers. "Come on. Let me show you I'm not _all_ good."

A smirk twisted his lips. "Now, that's more like it."

* * *

 _Alice_

Alice fell into step with Jacob as he was walking home from school one chilly November afternoon. His hands were stuffed in his pockets against the cold, and he had deep circles under his eyes.

"Hey," she said.

He shot her a sidelong glance but did not change his expression. "Hey."

"You look like things aren't going so well."

He snorted. "That's putting it mildly. The clinic's swamped with overdose cases. I've been up late every night this past week helping out my dad on the night shift."

Alice prided herself on her judgment of people. All her instincts told her that despite Jacob's history of delinquency, he wasn't a gang member. His father ran the local free clinic, and he obviously cared about the suffering of others. She just couldn't see him being involved in the manufacture or sale of Rapture. It went against police procedure, of course. But she had already gone so far off the rulebook.

"Jacob," she said. "How much do you want to help stop the spread of Rapture?"


	37. Chapter 37

_Bella_

I slammed my locker shut with extra force. Far too many tests in a single day. To top it off, it was sleeting and gray, which meant a windy, cold walk home. I whirled away from the wall. Someone was standing right behind me.

"Oh! Sorry—" I began before I recognized him. "Edward!"

He gave me a slow, lazy smile, lashes lowered beneath his glasses. He put one hand on the wall by my face and brought his lips to my ear. "I have a present for you," he whispered.

My annoyance faded as I drank in the warmth of his body.

He had one hand behind his back and a huge grin on his face. With a flourish he brought out a bouquet of lilies, waxy and white with deep red throats, topped with a narrow box.

They smelled fantastic—luxurious and heady, their rich scent making my nostrils tingle. "But—what's the occasion?"

He laughed. "Do I need an occasion to give the special woman in my life a present? It's the two-month anniversary of our first date, Bella." He brushed his lips over the top of my head.

I felt like such a jerk. Weren't boys supposed to be the ones who forgot anniversaries? "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't get you anything."

"Never mind," he said. "I didn't want you to. Why don't you open the box?"

I glanced around the crowded school corridor. "Right here?"

With a laugh, he bent, slipped one arm around me and scooped me up. I stiffened and squeaked as he trotted down the hall. He shouldered open one of the classroom doors and carried me over the threshold. Once we were alone, he combed his fingers through my hair and kissed me deeply.

I finally pulled back, gasping. His eyes were lidded as he drew away. "Open it," he commanded.

I laid the lilies on the desk and unwrapped the box, removing the tissue paper to reveal a long envelope. Sliding my finger under the flap, I removed a glossy brochure and a printed cardboard slip. "What—what is this?" I flipped the brochure over. A resort on the Big Island of Hawaii?

He laughed at the baffled expression on my face. "I'm taking you on a Hawaiian vacation."

"W-what do you mean? When?"

"This weekend," he said. "Do you like your present?"

I stared at him, the brochure dangling from my fingers. "Don't we have school?"

He stroked one finger along my cheek. "You'll only have to miss one day. We'll leave Thursday night and return Sunday night. First class airline tickets. That'll give us three full days in a warm and sunny paradise. We'll get away from all this dark and cold." He moved closer. "What do you say?"

"It sounds wonderful," I said, "but you know I've never been on an airplane before."

He bent his head to mine. "You're going to love it."

* * *

I clutched the envelope and the lilies to my chest as I ran down the stairs to my next class. Such an extravagant gift. I had never heard of going to Hawaii for a _weekend_. It was romantic that he wanted to celebrate our two-month anniversary, but the scale of the gift terrified me. It was the sort of thing you'd do for a honeymoon.

Maybe.

If you were rich.

Just how much money did Edward have? Spending money on a few fancy dinners was one thing, but a vacation like this had to cost thousands of dollars. How much was Volterra paying him? I shivered. The thought of such a large amount of money being involved in Edward's illegal activities made them seem even more dangerous.

"Hey!" Leah called as she stepped into my path in the central hall. "What's been up with you lately? We haven't seen you anywhere."

"We've missed you," said Jessica as she joined us.

I shrugged. "I've been in school every day. What's to miss?"

"You're always eating lunch alone with Edward these days and neglecting your friends," Leah said.

A wave of guilt washed over me. "I'm sorry. We're both so busy with school it seems that there isn't really that much time to spend together."

Leah scrutinized my face. "What's wrong? You look so distracted and worried." Her eyes fell on the lilies. "And what's this—flowers? Nice!"

I lifted the bouquet and gazed at it as though puzzled. "Edward gave me the flowers for our two-month anniversary."

Both girls grinned widely at that. "Aww, that's sweet," said Leah. "He's so romantic, isn't he?"

"But what's wrong?" pressed Jessica. "Why aren't you smiling?"

I stared at them blankly. What could I say? Edward had warned me of the importance of keeping his membership in Volterra a secret. Obviously I couldn't tell them that he had invited me on a wildly extravagant vacation. But I could certainly tell them that he wanted to go away with me for the weekend. As a matter of fact, I had to let them know, or they would wonder where I was.

I bit my lip, and my eyes shifted back and forth. "Edward invited me to go away over the weekend, and I'm a bit nervous about that."

"But why?" Jessica demanded. She lowered her voice. "Going away for the weekend sounds fun! Who wouldn't want to be alone with someone as hot as Edward all weekend? I mean, it's not like your mom's gonna know." She leered at me.

I stood there, sure that my face was becoming redder than the throats of the lilies. I still felt a little guilty about not following Charlie's wishes that I wait until marriage. Although I was a legal adult now and entitled to make my own decisions, everything had ended up being far more complicated than I had ever imagined.

Leah said, "I think it's sweet that he's thinking of two months with you as an anniversary, and that he wants to take you somewhere. Where is he taking you, by the way?"

"Well," I began, frantically trying to think of a trip that didn't sound too expensive, "he has a friend with a camper, and we're going to borrow it and go up into the mountains." I twirled a strand of hair around my finger, ashamed that I was lying to my own best friends.

"Camping in the middle of winter?" asked Leah, a line appearing in the middle of her forehead. "I hope that camper has a good heater."

Jessica grinned. "They won't need a heater—they'll be keeping each other warm."

* * *

 _Edward_

Edward walked down the hall of Volturi Pharmaceuticals and knocked on the door of one of the laboratories. When there was no answer, he peered in the window and saw Aro asleep on the lab couch, his mouth hanging open.

He held his key card to the reader and went inside. The lab smelled of the latest chemical concoction Aro was working on, and loud hip-hop music was blaring from a set of speakers in a corner. Edward turned off the stereo. Then he bent down to shake Aro's shoulder.

"Dr. Volturi!" he called. "Wake up. You asked me to remind you about the company party. It's going on now, sir. Wake up, sir!" he said again, shaking Aro one more time.

Finally the man stirred and groggily opened bloodshot eyes. "Like always," he mumbled, "your timing sucks, Edward." He struggled to sit up on the couch, brushing his waist-long hair back from his face. He swung his legs over the side and heaved himself up to a sitting position. "Hey, what happened to the music?"

"I turned it off, sir, so that you could get ready to go to the party."

Aro snorted. "Pull that stick outta your ass, Edward. You gotta loosen up if you're ever gonna have a happy life." He pulled himself up to standing, tucked in his shirt, and stalked out of the lab.

Edward followed, shaking his head.

Aro was weaving back and forth and singing off-key as he walked down the hall.

Edward slid his hand under the lapel of his lab coat to adjust the gain on Alice's recording device. Aro's behavior never failed to irritate him. And the way the other employees played up to him was disgusting. It infuriated Edward to be the low-status employee in this company when the president and owner was a crook who acted like a drunken teenager. What's more, after what Edward had discovered in Aro's email— He took a deep breath. It was just another example of how wrong things were with the world, that Aro had gotten away scot-free.

But for now, he would play the role of an obsequious follower, and collect evidence on these fools. They would be his masters just a little while longer.

He smiled politely and said, "Dr. Volturi, shall we join the party now?"


	38. Chapter 38

_Emmett_

Emmett leaned against the basement wall, watching the gang meeting through slitted eyes. Edward lounged in his chair, his chin propped on his fist, listening to a stumbling report from one of the newer members. The furnace rumbled to life and the murky light in the room brightened slightly. The blond kid was stuttering, and the crowd shifted, bored.

Emmett wondered when Edward would order the kid to shut up. He was usually less than tolerant, but today he seemed to be in a very relaxed and genial mood.

Finally, the kid stumbled to a stop.

"All right. Give your figures to Laurent after the meeting," Edward said. He tapped a finger on his armrest. "You're going to need to do better next time. But I'll give you one more chance. Of course, you're aware of the consequences should you fail again." His voice was light and pleasant.

The blond let out his breath in relief. "Y-yes, Captain. Th-thank you." He wiped his face with his sleeve. "I-I promise I'll do better."

Edward turned to Laurent. "Nothing more on the agenda?" He glanced over the crowd. "Very well. I'll be away on personal business this weekend. In my absence, Laurent will be in charge. You will obey him as you would me. I'll receive a direct report upon my return and will deal with any insubordination personally." Laurent, standing at Edward's side, nodded in his impassive way.

Emmett watched the others' faces to see how they would take the news. Edward rarely left his headquarters, preferring to keep personal contact with his subordinates. Emmett doubted a few days' absence would make a significant difference in Edward's hold over the gang; they were too terrified of him to attempt anything in his absence. Laurent was a good choice as proxy. He was completely ruthless. He would not hesitate to threaten anyone he deemed disloyal to Edward or mete out any punishment he found necessary to maintain Edward's rule of terror.

Still, Emmett mused, it was interesting that Edward had decided that something was so important that it was worth taking time away from his operation during this critical period. The distribution of Rapture was going extremely well from a financial standpoint; however, Volterra's success in this area was already attracting wolves in the form of rival gangs trying to muscle in on their territory, dealers being roughed up and having their product stolen, agents attempting to infiltrate their supply lines, and of course the cops from multiple jurisdictions swarming all over the district like ants looking for a source of sugar. Laurent, although loyal, did not have Edward's genius for planning and strategy, his flexible and wide-ranging ability to react instantly and brilliantly to any situation. It was a tactical error for Edward to leave the field of battle at this time.

Edward's expression gave little away, as always. But Emmett could detect a new softness in his face. The man—was happy. He had never seen Edward happy before. Intent, triumphant, pleased with a well-conceived and executed plan, yes, but never happy. This emotion was distracting him from his work; and the nature of that work required his entire concentration and delicate touch on the controls at all times. Otherwise, it could all come tumbling down, and would bring many other people down with it, himself included. Edward's new love interest was a weakness. Bella Swan posed a threat to all of Volterra.

Removing the threat without incurring Edward's wrath would be extremely tricky. Edward was relentless in pursuit of revenge.

A true conundrum, Emmett mused. It would take time to consider all angles. It was ironic that Edward's absence would facilitate that consideration.

* * *

 _Edward_

Edward lifted himself out of the limo and reached in to help Bella exit. They were catching a flight out of Sea-Tac. A uniformed porter put their suitcases on a cart and trundled them off in the direction of the first-class ticket counter.

Edward placed his hand under Bella's elbow to steer her in the right direction. She was trying to peer everywhere at once, eyes wide at her first glimpse of an international airport.

They moved through security rapidly in the area reserved for first class passengers. The TSA agents were polite and friendly. Edward returned their comments with equal courtesy, satisfied. It only took money to be treated with the respect he deserved.

Once on the plane, they were seated in two roomy, high-backed seats with a full recline, upholstered in royal blue. They formed a semi-private compartment. The very attentive, neatly-coifed blonde flight attendant chatted with them, fetched pillows and blankets, and served them each a glass of wine before takeoff. Meanwhile, the economy passengers stood in a long line, shuffled from foot to foot, struggled with their bags and were scolded by the staff for the size of their carry-ons.

Bella held the glass of wine with a sweaty hand. "What should I do with this?"

"You're expected to drink it. To do otherwise would be rude." He lifted his glass in a silent toast to her and drained it.

"But," she whispered in his ear, "Neither of us is 21."

"Shhh," Edward said, putting a finger to his lips. "Don't let them know."

With that, Bella, her eyes darting back and forth, slowly brought the glass to her mouth and sipped.

The whine of the engines rose. The plane taxied out, and the flight attendant retrieved their empty glasses. Edward reclined his seat. Bella stared out the window at the baggage handlers driving by on carts. Her nervousness had eased after her glass of wine. Edward took her hand in his and caressed her fingers.

* * *

 _Bella_

It was like being in a different world, strange and unreal. The buzz of the engines, the odd vibrations in the seat underneath me, the pale yellow molded plastic covers everywhere. The cabin lights dimmed when we reached cruising altitude and Edward helped me recline my seat all the way back until it was flat as a narrow bed. All around us, the cabin occupants settled for the night, and it was quiet. I was too agitated to even think of sleeping, the taste of the wine lingering in my mouth, my head swirling with peculiar sensations.

Edward lifted my blanket and crawled over the armrest between our two seats.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. The flatbed seat was barely big enough for one.

"I want to cuddle."

I glanced nervously at the darkened aisle. We had privacy only as long as no one walked past. Our bodies were jammed together under the blanket and I could feel every inch of his body against mine. The long muscles of one of his legs flexed and he draped it over mine; he writhed ever so slowly against me, his hardness pressing into my sex.

Electric tingles flashed through me and my skin burned. His scent poured into me and I inhaled more deeply. His face was only inches from mine, his lips glistening in the dim light.

He hovered over me, hands clenching in the fabric of my blouse. I traced the lines of his features, his thickly fringed eyes, the curve of his eyebrows, his full lips, and all I wanted was to be as close to him as possible. He bent toward me, inch by inch, and his hair brushed my cheek.

He was a dangerous man. How was it that I desired him so much? Waves of lethal and desperate want rippled across my skin. His lips brushed mine, velvet over fire; he laid down small open-mouthed kisses from the corner of my mouth to my ear. I shivered.

Then his tongue was in my mouth, his hands tilting my head to his, forcing my neck to arch back, bending me to his desires. He kissed me again and again, his tongue sinking into my mouth in a slow and intense rhythm.

His finger traced a line of flame along my throat and moved to circle my breast. His hands worked at the buttons of my shirt.

Suddenly coming to my senses, I pulled away. "What are you doing? We're in public here."

"So?" he whispered in my ear, his breath teasing the nape of my neck like a gust of hellfire. "No one can see us."

"What about the flight attendant?" I whispered back. "It's got to be illegal to make out on an airplane."

"Of course it is. However…" He unhooked my bra. "I slipped her a few hundred-dollar bills. She'll leave us alone." He drew back briefly. "And we're going to do much more than make out, Bella."

He peeled back my shirt from my shoulders and dipped his tongue into the hollows above my collarbones. I panted, trying desperately to keep quiet. His hands snuck behind my back, pulled off my bra and tossed it on the floor.

The cool air hit my bare breasts and I grasped at the threads of my resistance. "What if someone sees us?"

"So? They'll just be jealous of us because we're such a sexy couple." He traced patterns over my breasts with his fingers, bent his head to lie on my heart, his hair feathering over my skin. My nipples ached.

I couldn't believe we were doing this. I should tell him to stop. This was just wrong. I didn't want to have public sex.

His fingers trailed down my bare torso, leaving a line of sparks under my skin. He curled one around the waistband of my skirt, teasing and dancing, and I couldn't help panting, much as I tried to be silent, aware of all the people sitting only a few feet away in the dim cabin. I couldn't stop myself from bucking my hips into Edward's body. He gripped my ass hard, his fingers digging into my flesh.

"Do you really want me to stop?" Leisurely, he licked a line down between my breasts to my belly button. He plunged both hands into the gap between my legs. Arousal pooled like lava in my core. His fingers slipped into my panties and I was lost.

I lay on the rough fabric of the airplane seat, half-undressed under the blanket, half-ashamed, half-thrilled. Edward's expert fingers stroked me between my legs, spread my lips apart so he could reach more deeply inside me, an intimate caress that drowned me in sensation. I groaned.

"You like it after all," he murmured. Slowly, he took my mouth in his, his tongue probing me at the same time as his fingers entered me. I relaxed completely. I curled and twisted under his touch and let him take utter control of me. I was his, I would do anything for him; it didn't matter, I would do whatever he wanted, even though I knew it was wrong, knew that he had done so many things that were wrong; but everything about him aroused me incredibly and now, at this moment, I would not think or judge; I simply belonged to him.


	39. Chapter 39

_Edward_

They stepped off the plane in the morning stillness at the Kona Airport. The air was almost shockingly soft and warm after the cold sleet they had left behind in Seattle. It felt gentle, like a loving caress over smooth skin.

Edward trailed his fingers over Bella's bare shoulders, wanting to observe what she thought of her first visit to a tropical island. Clusters of orchids and calatheas lined the terminal hallways, open to the outside air, and Bella's eyes widened and her mouth went slack. She ran to the railing, gazed out into the sunlight, and stroked one waxy petal. Two tiny dark birds swooped in front of her and landed at her feet, pecked at crumbs on the floor, and darted away. She flinched and jumped backwards with a small yelp, a huge grin on her face.

Inwardly, he marveled at the fact that he could take such joy in another person's delight.

It was extraordinary how his thoughts turned to Bella all the time now. When she was with him, he was fascinated by her smallest gesture or facial expression. When she wasn't, he found himself thinking about her, desiring her, wanting, needing to do something to make her react to him. He wanted to tell her everything, share his entire dangerous, secret life with her. The habits he had built over a lifetime of lying and hiding were being torn away. It would have been frightening if he feared anything. Instead, it was exhilarating.

The sight of her lips, her eyes, a glimpse of the creamy skin above her breasts, all set his heart beating faster until he felt he was going to go mad.

With that odd sensitivity he had developed around Bella, he knew that there was something wrong, some discontent underneath her joy. Something was bothering her. He wasn't surprised to be sensitive to her moods; what was unusual was that he wanted nothing more than to make her feel better.

It wasn't until he pulled their rental car out of the parking lot that he said, "Bella, please tell me what's upsetting you."

She glanced away from him, out the window, and twisted a lock of hair around one finger. "What you—we—did last night on the plane? That was wrong."

"Why? It was fun. And I thought you enjoyed it."

"You deliberately manipulated me into doing something I didn't want to do."

He stopped, taken aback, to consider her words. It simply had not occurred to him to ask her permission. He had desired her, and so he had taken her. That was how he led his life; he took what he wanted, and everyone around him scrambled for the leavings.

And on the heels of his realization came absurdly strong regret. A gut-wrenching, twisting sorrow. With one single sentence, everything shifted.

He had never looked at the world through anyone's eyes other than his own. What sort of a person was he, really?

The sort of person who used others. Who cared only for his own selfish desires. Who destroyed others carelessly.

If his mother were alive, what would she think about what he did, about the life he lived?

"Bella, I'm sorry," he whispered. What could he say to convince her he was truly sorry? "You're right. I've never had a relationship before and I'm finding this is new ground for me."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You're not telling me I'm your first. I know you've been with lots of women before."

"Sex, yes." He turned the wheel and they rounded a curve in the road. "But Bella, you are the first person I've ever felt something for." He wanted to say something stronger, but he was afraid she wouldn't believe him. How could she believe that someone like him could love anyone?

But he had to convince her. "Is it so strange that I've never had feelings for anyone before? To tell you the truth, I thought I was incapable of emotion—until I met you."

"The problem is you've lied to me so often, Edward, that I don't know if you're lying now."

"Believe me, I've never regretted my past lies to you as much as I do now."

"You lie all the time." Her voice tightened. "And you're good at it. I've caught myself believing you even when I know you're lying. So where does that leave us?"

"There's no way I can prove what I'm saying is the truth." His expression exuded sincerity, but he knew she had seen it many times before. Would she believe him this time? "All I can ask is that you look at my actions and not just my words. All I can do is tell you exactly how I feel, and let you draw your own conclusions. I've never felt this way before, and frankly, it scares me. I wait for every word you say; I hang on every expression on your face. When we're apart, you fill my thoughts. I question everything I do and wonder 'What will Bella think?' It's overwhelming sometimes." He let his voice fade.

"But you're still involved with that gang."

He was silent for a moment. "It's not that easy to leave, Bella."

"What do you mean?" she said. "Can't you just tell them you're going to quit?"

He had to smile at her naïveté. "Surely you know there would be—consequences if I did."

"I thought you said Volterra wasn't as violent as the rumors said."

"I never said they were completely non-violent. In fact, there would be some major risks."

"What do you mean by that?"

He thought about his last meeting with Caius, the delicate balance he was maintaining. He was aware of the impression he had left behind, with Emmett, with Laurent, with James. So much was going on in his absence. Would it all work out the way he planned? There were so many potential risks.

He sighed. It had been easier when he didn't have to worry about a conscience. When he just took what he wanted.

Did he really want to start feeling emotion again? Did he want to care?

Emotion—was painful.

"I'm sure I could work something out so I could … retire. But it would take some planning." He glanced at her. "Planning I've already begun." He didn't want to tell her all that it would involve. He did not want to tell her of Caius' threat to her, the threat he himself was responsible for. There was so much he had to do to make sure that both he and Bella could walk away from Volterra and live. He would have to deal with Caius, Marcus, and Aro. Traitors in his own organization would have to be handled. It would not be easy, especially since he was hoping to avoid bloodshed.

"Would you really be willing to give up all the money?"

He changed lanes smoothly, and accelerated up the onramp to a highway. "I have accumulated enough capital now to change my methods. Very soon now, I promise you, I will only make money by legal means." He flashed her a crooked smile and she looked doubtful. "Believe me, there are plenty of lawful ways to become extremely wealthy." It was true that his best strategy at this point was to acquire assets legally. Beyond a certain point, the risk-reward structure no longer favored illicit activity. "I always planned to become a legitimate businessman as soon as I overcame the unfair restrictions from my background."

He merged into the flow of traffic. "Let me make you a promise. Give me just a few more months to extricate myself from Volterra. After that, I promise to tell you everything, let you be the judge of what I've done. And even more, I promise to let you be my conscience. I will never do anything that will go against your morals."

She stared at him, saying nothing.

"Could that be enough?" he murmured.

There was terrible conflict in her eyes. He had no idea what she was thinking. All he knew was that she held the weight of his life in the balance. He felt strange; was he incredibly weightless or unbearably heavy? He had become detached from gravity, like a planet hurtling through the void of space, waiting to be caught by the gravitational well of a new sun.

And then she placed her hand on his arm and everything fell into place. His orbit stabilized and centered itself.

It was the end of everything, and the beginning.

For some reason, he found himself remembering a long-ago day. His mother had dressed him in a new coat and told him to run and look at himself in the mirror. He dragged her much larger coat from the closet and handed it to her.

"Now you look at yourself in the mirror, Mommy!"

She gave him a big hug. "Looks like we match, Edward."

"I love you, Mommy."

"I love you too, Edward."

His hand brushed over Bella's and he found her staring at him. She reached out one finger to stroke his cheek, and when she drew back, a single teardrop glistened on her fingertip.

* * *

 _Jacob_

"You're a cop!"

"Not so loud!" Alice cautioned. "Principal Greene was the only one who knew, up until yesterday. Now it's just you and Edward Cullen."

Jacob's face darkened. "Cullen? Why him?"

"He's an intern at Volturi Pharmaceuticals, and we suspect there may be some illegal activity going on there, so he could be helpful. Besides, it's obvious he's not a gang member."

"How is it obvious? It's not obvious to me." Jacob crossed his arms and resumed walking.

Alice rolled her eyes, so exactly like a high school student that Jacob almost laughed. "Oh, please. He's a complete nerd, Jacob. Besides, Principal Greene vouches for him."

He made a sarcastic grimace. "Yeah, if Greene vouches for him, he must be okay." He took her by the arm. "Alice, Cullen is exactly one of the people I've been suspicious of for weeks."

Alice pulled away from him. "And Greene was suspicious of you. Everyone is suspicious of everyone else in this school."

"But listen, Alice. James is involved for sure. I know he's a member of Volterra. I suspect he's one of their leaders, one of the Guards. He may even be their Captain. I spotted Laurent Da Revin, who doesn't sneeze unless Cullen gives him permission, talking secretly with James in a back corridor, and passing him something."

"So?"

"Don't you see, that must mean Cullen is involved with Volterra."

She shook her head. "Jacob, that's the weakest chain of supposition I've ever heard."

"But—" he insisted, but she cut him off.

"Listen to me. Volterra has been flooding the high school and the neighborhood with false rumors. There's all sorts of misinformation going around. If I were to listen to every single hot tip or rumored sighting, I'd be busy for the next five years, and guess what? I wouldn't get anywhere." She tightened her lips. "We already made one big misstep. We've got to start moving on this case."

"Listen—"

"No, you listen to me. We're going after Volturi Pharmaceuticals. We're building a case against them and for that, we need Edward's help. I don't want you bad-mouthing him anymore. Now as for you, we need your help here in the school. I want you to help me gain entrance into Volterra."

Jacob's jaw dropped. "You—want to become a member of the gang?"

"I figure it's the only way to really understand what's going on."

"But it's dangerous! Don't you know they kill spies?" He snorted. "Well—I suppose you could ask James."

"No. I have a plan for that. But yeah, it'll involve James—and you."

"Me?" Jacob pointed a thumb at his own chest, eyebrows climbing his forehead. "You are totally out of your mind. There's no way I can help you get membership in Volterra."

Alice winked. "Wait till you hear my plan."

* * *

 _Please leave a review on your way out._


	40. Chapter 40

_Edward and Bella_

Bella and Edward walked barefoot on the beach in the pre-dawn light. The sky was a luminous pale blue combed with thin streaks of cirrus, the air soft as a kiss. The sand under their feet shone silver in the early morning light, the grains fine and silky as powder. Her hair hung loose down her bare back, warm against her skin in the gentle air. Everything she wore was a gift from him: a brightly colored bikini that showed off her slender waist and generous breasts, and over it only a gauzy white robe that trailed to her mid-thighs. Her pale skin gleamed in the morning glow.

He wore a light white shirt and white shorts, his long, lean limbs bare to the light and the air, his hair falling, tousled, over the exquisitely sculpted lines of his face. As he walked beside her, she could sense his grace, his smile; she could feel the warmth of his skin only inches from hers.

The air was filled with scents Bella had never breathed, flowers sweet as honey from a climate she had never known. And off to her right, filling half the earth and sky, stretching to the horizon with an almost terrifying vastness, was the ocean.

She stopped for a moment to gaze out at the dark blue expanse of water, hear the rushing, rhythmic sound of the surf, smell the briny air that was somehow full of promise and excitement. How different it all was from her life in grimy Forks. She had never thought before about what it would be like to spend her days in a place of physical beauty. She was accustomed to harsh seasons: from sweltering heat in the summer, when the wet air smelled thick with unwashed bodies and fumes from car exhausts and factories, to the bitter dry gray cold of winter, when the backs of her hands chapped and bled, and she had to balance turning the heat up with the cost of electricity, and the thin snow came down on horizontal blasts of arctic air, only to turn gray and black on the dirty roads, and linger in huge misshapen piles on the sidewalks until spring.

She felt a caress of warmth, and the brilliant rim of the sun appeared over the mountains to the east. The light flashed on Edward's face. His smile was soft and gentle, an expression that matched the delicate atmosphere around them.

Edward, watching Bella as the sun rose and flushed her cheeks with morning light, thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. She was a flower to rival all the opulent tropical blooms on the island. He could see in her expression that she was profoundly affected by the beauty and luxury of her surroundings, and his own response to her joy shocked him with its intensity and depth.

Nothing had prepared him for this emotion that shook the foundations of his body and mind, this earthquake of the soul. It was a tidal wave that inundated everything he had ever believed.

He would do anything to make her smile like this. He would bring her the sun on a golden platter. He would give her the world so she could hold it in her hands. Of all the things he owned, or had ever desired to possess, there was nothing to compare to her. She was the only thing he would ever want. There was no one else like her, now or forever. He would move the world for her, would mold it, shake it to its core, so that Bella would never be unhappy again.

He reached for her, took her in his arms, and brushed his lips across the top of her head. "I want to give you everything," he murmured. "Anything you want shall be yours. Simply say the word."

Bella tilted her face up to his, her eyes beseeching. "I only want you. I don't need anything else. I want us to be together and to love each other and to be happy together."

He held her tightly. "Then you shall have it." He was silent for a moment as the disk of the sun gradually moved free of the earth and spread a comforting warmth over his bare arms, the hairs on his forearms gleaming gold in the sunlight. Then he said them, said the words that he had never meant before, and even though he could lie more convincingly than most people could tell the truth, for the first time he was speaking a deeper truth than he had ever known existed. "I love you, Bella."

"I love you too, Edward." The sun glinted off her incredible fall of auburn hair, and his hands were buried in it, her face angled up toward his.

Gently, he bent his head to hers, touched his lips to hers, and kissed her. He knew now that she was the most precious thing on earth to him, and that nothing else mattered, had ever mattered. He was acute enough to realize the irony; he had been cynical above all others, using the word "love" without any clue of what it truly meant, using other people's adoration for his own selfish purposes, thinking of love as a weakness to be exploited, of emotion as merely a means to manipulate others. How wrong he had been, and how foolish; he, who had thought himself above all others, to have been missing out on this wonder, this miracle, this joy.

He kissed her, and he lost himself in the kiss, in the moment under the morning sun on an island blessed by a divine hand to be as welcoming to the human body and soul as the earth could be. In this moment, there was nothing else but Bella and their love for each other, and he could be free, for a moment, of the constant watchfulness, the never-ending scheming, and the roiling ambition that had burned inside him as far as he could remember. He could be truly free, and could love and care for another soul as humans were meant to care for one another. Finally he knew: this was his birthright as a human being, not above all others but one with all others, never lonely again but forever complete, in the arms of the woman he loved.

* * *

 _Emmett_

Emmett moved silently down the hall toward the corner where he heard a murmured conversation. James Witherdale and Riley Biers were speaking together, their voices low.

"My, my," he said. They guiltily jumped apart. "What're you two talking about, hmmm?"

James scowled. "Just the next shipment, Emmett. What's it to you?" He stuck out his chin.

"Oh, nothing," Emmett allowed his voice to trail off. "I was just thinking that it was too bad the Captain chose to go on a luxury tropical vacation for the weekend. Especially when there's so much going on right here." He watched their faces closely.

Riley scratched his crotch and frowned. "Yeah, so what? Captain does whatever he wants, doesn't he?"

"Surely you heard about what happened to Lindley and Washington last night, didn't you?"

"What?" James asked, his eyes narrowing.

Emmett examined his fingernails. "You know they were guarding the Twenty-Second Street warehouse, right? It seems they were ambushed by some of our rivals from Eastside who decided to burn the warehouse. And they were killed when the building collapsed on them."

Riley and James exchanged glances. Then Riley snarled, "So? They were careless. They blew it. What's that to us?"

Emmett shrugged. "So you don't think it's a problem that he's off fooling around with his little piece while we're all risking our lives for him here?"

James said, "That almost sounds like insubordination, Emmett."

Emmett said, grinning, "Don't trip over the big words, James. I'm just saying while he's gone anything could happen. Maybe you two oughta think about where that would leave you."

James narrowed his eyes. "So… what are you suggesting?"


	41. Chapter 41

_Emmett_

The wind had died down, but a leaden sky pressed down over the thin layer of snow that had fallen overnight. The sun had barely risen, but in one of the asphalt yards in back of the school, Laurent was moving through an intricate martial-arts dance.

Emmett watched silently as he went through his moves. Inwardly shaking his head, he thought that only Laurent would be practicing tai chi outside on such a cold and miserable day. The kid was insanely self-disciplined, and never seemed to need any fun to lighten up his life.

He waited until Laurent had completed his routine, and walked over as he began his post-workout stretching.

"Hey, Laurent, how's it going?" Laurent only grunted in response. Emmett knew Laurent despised him, but that just added to his amusement. He had learned long ago from Edward that hatred was one of the most easily manipulated emotions.

"Have you gotten the reports on the weekend activity yet?" He knew Laurent already had the reports, but he wanted to see how he would react.

"Of course, Emmett." His voice was clipped with annoyance. "What do you want?" He communicated with Emmett as little as possible, exchanging only information that was necessary for their positions as Edward's lieutenants. Emmett knew that he would be irritated by his seeking him out like this, outside of regular channels, and he grinned.

"I was just noticing that there's been a significant drop in revenue over the weekend since the Captain's been gone."

"So?" Laurent bent to stretch over his left leg.

"In general, ever since he's been… distracted… by this woman, there's been a downward trend in revenues." He waited as Laurent deepened his stretch. "You've got to have seen it."

"Your point being?" Laurent snapped.

"I was just thinking that she hasn't been really good for the organization. Don't you agree?"

Laurent straightened. "I see where you're going with this, Emmett, and it's not going to work. You're trying to manipulate me into doing something about this woman."

Emmett backed away in mock surprise, raising his hands. "Oh, no, I never said anything like that."

"He would know. He always knows."

"No, no." Emmett's smile grew. "I was thinking about something more subtle. Something no one could object to. Or trace back to us."

* * *

 _Bella_

I walked to school singing. Some days the cold bothered me, but not today. It was a brilliantly clear winter day, shards of sunlight glinting off icicles on the eaves of the buildings. It had snowed over the weekend, and although the streets had already been cleared and cars were rushing by and spattering dirty brine on the sidewalks, the town still appeared white and clean.

I couldn't remember having felt so happy. I was packed with so much energy I was sure I could run all the way to school and never get tired. I felt as though the sun were shining from inside my own body, keeping me warm despite the bitter cold, shining on everyone around me, on all of my friends. It seemed that everyone I met on the way to school gave me a cheery greeting.

Leah waylaid me by the water fountain with a wide smile. "Hey, Bella! How was your weekend? Tell me what happened!" She linked arms with me as we walked up the stairs to our lockers.

"What's to tell?" I said, suddenly cautious. "We had a good time together. We talked a lot."

Leah gave me a once-over. "You can't have spent much time indoors. Your face looks tanned."

"Tanned?" I put my hands to my cheeks. "Why, that's strange."

"How can you get tanned on a camping trip in the winter?"

I frantically cast around for a plausible story. "We were out in the snow! Yeah, the sun must have reflected off the snow and given me a bit of a burn. I should have used more sunscreen, but who would have thought that you need sunscreen in the winter?" I burst into a high-pitched laugh that sounded extremely artificial to my ears.

Leah scratched her chin. "You went hiking in the snow?"

"That's right. It was fun!"

"I heard that there was nearly a foot of snow in the mountains. Didn't that make hiking difficult?" Leah cocked her head at me.

I twisted my combination lock. "Right—we didn't just go hiking. We went—snowshoeing!" I grinned suddenly at my idea. "We walked around all day in snowshoes, and it was really hard to get used to them, so it was difficult to get back to the camper at the end of the day." I laughed. "So that's why we were out so long in the snow, and why I got burned!"

Leah gave me a strange look, but shrugged.

"Hey, Bella! How was the big weekend?" Jessica came up from behind and threw her arms around me. I yelped.

"It was fine!" Sliding out of Jessica's grasp, I picked up my math book from the bottom of the locker.

Jessica waggled her eyebrows at me. "You look like you've had some sun! Where did you say you went for the weekend?"

"She went snowshoeing." Leah said. She gave me a sidelong glance. "Isn't that right?"

"Yeah! We went snowshoeing in the mountains on our camping trip." I put a hand behind my head and laughed again, shrilly. My face flushed with embarrassment.

"Snowshoeing?" Jessica's mouth hung open. "Where did you go?"

I bit my lip. This lie was getting way too complicated. I cast about desperately for help, and spotted Edward at the end of the hall, coming up the stairs with Emmett. Emmett had an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.

I waved wildly. "Good morning, Edward!"

His head came up and I could feel the warmth of his smile all the way across the hall. It sparked an answering heat in me, a ripple like light passing through water, and my knees weakened. He walked away from Emmett without a backward glance, leaving him staring, lips pressed together tightly.

"Good morning." His eyes locked on me and I felt light-headed.

"I hear you introduced Bella to a new sport," Leah said.

Edward glanced at her, his face as calm as usual.

I shook myself mentally and jumped in. "I was just telling them that we went snowshoeing in the mountains on our camping trip this weekend."

He picked up the thread effortlessly without even a flicker of surprise in his expression. "Yes, Bella did very well for her first time on snowshoes." He smiled at me with just a hint of pride on his face. Once again, I marveled at how smoothly he lied.

"Where did you go?" asked Jessica again.

"Past the river and into the wilderness area at the east end of the national park." Edward leaned forward, eyes focused on Leah's face. "What happened to you, Leah?"

"Me?" asked Leah. "What do you mean?"

Edward traced her cheek with a finger. "You have a bruise here; what happened?"

She put her hand up to her face. "I was sparring in karate practice and one of my opponents got past my guard, that's all. He wasn't able to pull his punch in time."

"I wouldn't have thought there was anyone who could get past your guard at this point."

Leah shrugged. "It happens. I messed up this time. I—"

Jessica interrupted. "You don't look tanned, Edward."

"Tanned?" He lifted one eyebrow.

"From the snow," she said. "From being out in the snow all weekend, like Bella here."

Edward glanced at me. "She does look a little rosy from all that healthy outdoor activity." He tapped his binder. "By the way, Bella, did you do problem 17 on the calculus homework due today? I had a question about what the teacher was asking us." He pulled me aside and I gratefully dug in my backpack for my math notebook. When he touched my arm, my unease about lying to my friends was completely forgotten.

All at once it felt to me as though the two of us were alone. The crowded, noisy hall faded away and I could see nothing but his eyes, feel nothing but his touch, knew only the two of us together.

Then the school bell rang, and I hurried off to class. I had gotten away with another lie. But how long, I wondered, until Leah or Jessica caught me out? What would I do then?


	42. Chapter 42

_Edward_

Returning to his organization after only three days away had been, in some ways, entertaining. Edward gazed into the fire in his study. In other ways—not so much. It had all begun to seem a little tedious.

A piece of the log began to glow, dropped off a larger block of wood, and fell through the grate to the stone hearth beneath.

It used to be that every time he had a spare moment, he would ponder his latest plans, contemplate new schemes, and work out little details on existing operations. But now, all those spare moments went to thinking about Bella. The hours he used to spend scheming about new ways to increase his power and wealth now went to reminiscing about time spent in her company or planning how to make their next date even more spectacular.

It was hard to sit here, alone in his study, when he knew she was only five minutes away, in her apartment, also alone. He rose, paced to the back of the room, returned.

He had grown unaccustomed to denying himself anything. He wanted her, now. He wanted to breathe in the scent of her, to feel her long hair trailing over his bare skin, to take her under his hands, overcome her stammered resistance, and drive her to shattering pleasure.

He closed his eyes.

In the early days, he had spent long periods of time denying himself, waiting, planning. He had waited for years: a very long portion of his life. Patience was his strong suit. He reminded himself of that, took a series of deep breaths.

It was vital that he focus. He had to admit it: she _was_ a distraction, a dangerous distraction from the many critical and sensitive operations he was running, ventures that all needed his adroit handling. Emmett and Laurent were right.

Of course, even they didn't know the true extent of the risk. Edward was keeping Caius at bay for now by stepping up Rapture distribution, but… it was becoming more and more disturbing that he was responsible for so much addiction and suffering.

He had to stop.

But as soon as Caius got even a hint that he was planning to leave the gang, what would happen to Bella? Edward lowered himself into the armchair, lifted the glass of brandy on the end table and took a long, slow sip.

Then his mind drifted and his lips quirked into a smile.

"Snowshoes." He laughed at her bizarre imagination. It was quite clear that Bella Swan was not merely a weakness or a liability. She was a great big hole in his security. A major risk to his careful plans. Regardless of her intentions, she could not lie to save her life; it was only a matter of time before her friends—and Jacob Black and Alice Brandon—figured out exactly what was going on.

What was he going to do about her?

He had been deluding himself in Hawaii. When he was far from his day-to-day operations, it had been easier to imagine that a normal life with Bella was possible. But it couldn't be.

He set down the glass. A chunk fell off the log in the fireplace and the flames abruptly faded. His skin chilled.

* * *

 _James_

The spot between James's shoulder blades prickled. Laurent's footsteps sounded behind him on the stairs. When they reached the top floor, Laurent ushered him into a small room, where Edward Cullen sat behind a desk, working on a tablet computer.

"Hello, James," Edward said very softly. James sat down, swallowing. What was all this about? Had Edward finally figured it out? Was he pretending not to know to amuse himself before he ordered Laurent to bury his knife in his back? "Thank you for coming."

James growled to himself but stayed outwardly quiet. Why was Edward always so freaking polite? James preferred straight shooters, even if they hated you. With Edward, you never could tell when he was about to stab you. At least with Jacob Black, you always knew where you stood. He saw amusement in Edward's eyes and tried not to squirm. Edward's amusement was never a good thing.

"Laurent. Play the recording."

The voice of Jacob Black burst from a small speaker in the center of the desk, unexpectedly loud. "Why are we meeting in a supply closet? This is ridiculous, Alice."

Laurent adjusted the volume. Edward lidded his eyes, watching James's reactions.

"No, it's good security," came a sharp rejoinder. "What I have to say to you is highly sensitive, not to be discussed outside this room."

"What's so special about this closet?"

"This room has been swept for bugs and is secured. We don't know who might be a spy for Volterra."

"What's with all this cloak and dagger crap?"

"Do you want to stop Volterra or not?" James could picture her standing up and placing her fists on her hips.

"Fine, fine. Don't get your knickers in a twist. So, what's your big plan then?"

Papers shuffled.

"I still think the best strategy is for me to infiltrate Volterra itself."

"How the hell do you expect to get in? Half the school wants to join that damn gang." Jacob's voice swelled with outrage.

James snorted. "Hell, even Black is lusting after us." He reclined in the seat and grinned widely. Laurent frowned and motioned for him to be quiet.

Jacob continued, "They've got some kind of initiation rite you want to stay the hell away from."

"Will you be quiet and let me explain?"

A pen scratched on paper.

"Here. This is the second floor of the east wing. During third period, James has class here. You've got class here."

"Right, so what's the point?"

"I'm getting to it, so shut up. Tomorrow after third period, after the bell rings, I want you in this corridor, where I'll be waiting."

Jacob gave a muffled snort of laughter. "What are you drawing there?"

"I want you to make a scene, pick a fight with me. Then we'll—"

There was a louder noise of derision from Jacob. "What the fuck? Why are you drawing a bunch of cats?"

"You idiot! I'm trying to draw a diagram so simple even a bonehead like you can understand the plan!" Her voice was sharp. "Besides, what's wrong with cats? Now, I want you here and we'll fight right in front of James's classroom. I want him to come out and see us." James could imagine her glaring at Jacob. "James hates you, and if he sees us fighting, he'll be more open to me. He knows what a good fighter I am; I could be useful to him. I'm going to drop some hints about needing money. I already told him a sob story about going to detention school." There was a short pause. "Any questions so far?"

"Yeah. I want to know why your drawings suck." Jacob's voice sounded angry, but he was laughing at the same time.

There was the sound of a loud smack.

"Ow!" cried Jacob.

"Are you going to shut up and listen or not?"

"You just told me to ask questions!"

"I meant questions about the plan, idiot!"

"Your plan sucks big time! Why the hell would James think just because you're fighting me you'd be a good recruit? James may be a scummy lowlife, and look like a brain-dead goon, but he's not a complete dumbass. He's not going to fall for it."

James muttered, "Call me a brain-dead goon…" He trailed off at Laurent's sharp glance.

"Got a better plan?" Alice's voice was hard.

There was silence.

"Jacob, Rapture is spreading like crazy. We've got to do something now."

Jacob lowered his voice. "Yeah. But it's dangerous."

"Idiot." But Alice's voice sounded affectionate. "Of course it is. But that's my job. This plan may not be perfect. But at least it'll soften James towards me. Hey, anyone who can't stand his worst enemy can't be all bad."

Laurent stopped the recording.

James leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He grinned. "They're right I'm not so dumb to fall for that trick."

Edward tilted his head. "Of course you wouldn't, James. But in this case…"

"You want me to pretend to fall for it, recruit her into the gang." James's mind was working furiously. What would Caius think about this latest move? How would it fit into his plans? And what about Emmett?

"Exactly," Edward said. "Don't make it too easy, but allow her to pique your interest. Hint that you might be willing to recruit her. Draw her out."

"You want any information out of her?"

"There's nothing we need from her. She's pretty much gone rogue, and this bogus idea is just part of it." Edward waved a dismissive hand. "Just let her think—eventually—you'll be recommending her. Let her believe that her plan," Edward's lip twitched, "is going to succeed."


	43. Chapter 43

_James_

The metal door to the abandoned parking garage clanged open, and James entered, holding Lonnie by the scruff of his neck. He tried not to wrinkle his nose; the air reeked of gasoline tainted with an acrid undercurrent that bit into his throat. He gave Lonnie a vicious shove, and the kid staggered and fell to his knees. He was gaunt and pale. Deep shadows lay under his bloodshot eyes, and his body shook with tremors.

Caius stood in the shadows at the other end of the low-ceilinged chamber, half-hidden behind a stack of corroding oil drums. Dark fingers of oil spread outward from his feet, staining the crumbling concrete floor of the garage. He watched as James hauled Lonnie up again, shoved him forward, and then kicked the backs of his knees so he fell to the ground again.

"James, who's this?" Caius's voice, shrill and cold, reminded James of an oil slick on an arctic sea.

Lonnie crawled forward on his hands and knees, whimpering. Approaching Caius, he groveled on the dirty concrete before him. "Sir," he whined, prostrating himself. "Please—"

James huffed out a breath. "Like you wanted, someone who got on the Captain's bad side. No more slip for Lonnie, Captain's orders."

Lonnie inhaled raggedly and pushed himself halfway up on his hands and knees, angling his face up toward Caius. His mouth was twisted into a distorted grimace that might have passed for an attempt at a smile. "Please, sir, let me help you." His voice broke. "I'll do anything."

Caius regarded him thoughtfully. "Lonnie. I'm wondering how far you might be willing to go for me."

"Anything." Lonnie's voice shook.

"Hmm." Caius bent, dipped two fingers in the slimy, rainbow-hued pool of liquid in front of him, and held his greasy dark fingers to Lonnie's mouth.

The kid's Adam's apple bobbed and for a moment he froze. Then, slowly, he parted his lips. His tongue emerged, swollen and coated with white. With a jerky, awkward motion, he bent forward and licked the sludge off Caius's fingers.

He doubled over, retching and gagging.

Caius's thin lips stretched in a rictus of a smile.

Lonnie coughed a few more times and stopped. "Like I said before, I'll do anything for you," he whimpered hoarsely. "Only, please, can't I have just one hit…" He trailed off as Caius's face darkened.

"Oh no. You don't get your reward until after the job is done, and done well. It displeases me that you're asking even before I've told you what I want you to do. It makes me think that you're not sufficiently eager to please me."

"Oh, no, no, sir, all I want is to please you," Lonnie moaned. "Please, tell me what you want me to do."

Caius's eyes glittered. "Excellent." He leaned against the rusty side of one of the barrels. "I take it you have no objections to bringing down Edward Cullen."

* * *

 _Alice_

The usual lunchtime rush crowded the halls; the air was damp, redolent of sweaty teenagers and moldy paper products, and through it all threaded a slightly burnt odor from the cafeteria. Alice pushed her way through a crowd of larger students. "Edward, I'd like to speak with you in private, if you please."

"Sure, Alice." He gave her a deferential nod and followed her up the stairs. In the supply closet, he stared around the small room in amazement. "This is your base of operations?"

Alice scowled. "Don't ask questions. This is a secured room, so that we can discuss matters pertinent to the case here but nowhere else."

Edward nodded. "I see. How can I help you?"

"First, I wanted to let you know that I was very pleased with the evidence you gathered in the report you submitted yesterday."

He offered her a humble smile. "I'm glad you found it useful. I'm very concerned about illegal drug activity in our community."

"I think it justifies upping the ante on the operation against Volturi Pharmaceuticals. Based on what you said in your report, I've decided to set up a sting. The first thing I want to know is—how good are you at acting?"

There was a pause, and then Edward smiled modestly. "Well, I _am_ president of the drama club. Although I have to admit we don't have the budget to put on any plays, so I've never gone onstage."

"For this to work, it's critical that you be convincing in your role. If you don't think you can handle it, I'll get another cop to come in on this. What do you think? Be honest now."

"I think I can do it."

Alice weighed his response. He had done an excellent job so far gathering incriminating circumstantial evidence against Aro and Marcus. It pointed to the manufacture of Rapture in their lab, and linked them with a known drug kingpin. Jasper had been following up on all the leads and had told her Adrian's information had been crucial. "You realize there is substantial risk involved, don't you?" she asked. "If Volturi or his underlings suspect something is going on, they could do anything. Drug manufacturers are seldom pacifists."

"I understand. But I'm willing to take that risk."

* * *

 _Edward_

Edward let himself in to Bella's apartment with his key. She had invited him over for dinner, and he was going to eat with her, discuss strategy, and leave immediately after. He was only coming over because he was hungry, not because he wanted to see her. It was—efficient to share a meal while they discussed what would happen next.

She hummed to herself in the kitchen, and a large pot of spaghetti sauce simmered on the stove, filling her apartment with the scent of tomatoes and spice. He set a grocery bag on the counter. She turned a page of her cookbook, hands covered with flour.

He brushed her hair aside with one hand, and touched his lips to her neck. Her skin was flushed from the heat of the kitchen, and her pores had opened, allowing her scent to escape into his nostrils. He breathed in, a shock of excitement traveling from his head to his toes.

She relaxed in his arms, and he felt the urge to sweep her up, take all that softness and those lovely curves into the bedroom, run his hands over her until she trembled. Until she wanted nothing but him.

With his iron will he put aside his longings, kept his embrace neutral, dropped his hands from her body.

"Edward, it's great to see you! Wait till you see what I'm making for dinner. Spaghetti and spinach soufflé!"

"Sounds—original," he said. "I brought some bananas and chocolate ice cream for dessert."

"Chocolate, thank you! I knew I'd forgotten something."

He took the groceries out of the bag and put them away in her refrigerator.

"So how was your job today?" She switched on a burner, put a pat of butter in a skillet, and waited for it to melt. "You went to your internship, right?" Her fingers tensed on the handle. She was avoiding his eyes; it must have occurred to her that he was lying to her about his job too.

His voice remained calm. "It went quite well." He glanced at the stove. The pot was boiling so vigorously that red sauce was splattering over the white ceramic stovetop. He reached around her to turn down the burner. "The heat needs to be a little lower."

"The recipe said to simmer. Do you know how to set the burner?"

"You set the knob about halfway." He showed her. "The flames should just be about that high, see?"

"How come you know so much about cooking, Edward?" She fell silent; she must have been aware of the unintended double entendre in her words. Would she speak of it today, question him as to the purpose to which he put his knowledge of chemistry?

He shrugged, not responding, got a spoon out of her drawer and dipped it in the sauce, took a nibble. "Mmm. Tastes good. Although I think it could use a little more garlic." He cut a clove from the braid hanging on the wall, found her garlic press, and squeezed the juice into the simmering red liquid.

She watched his hand as he swirled the wooden spoon in the thick liquid, not meeting his eyes. He tossed the spoon onto the stovetop and pivoted to face her. The red sauce stained the utensil's handle, turning the pale wood crimson. "Bella," he said. "Don't look so troubled."

"I—" she whispered, her hands against his chest.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached behind him to dip a finger in the sauce.

"Don't!" she cried. "You'll get burned."

He laughed and bent his head to hers. "I never get burned," he whispered. He held up his finger, now dripping with thick red liquid, and ran his tongue from the base to the tip. "Delicious," he murmured. He brought his fingers to her lips. "Open up," he commanded softly.

She opened her mouth, taking his fingers between her lips, licking them quietly, her tongue curling around his fingers. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, a soft pressure, his tongue teasing her, a sleek invasion he knew she would not resist. His hand slid to the back of her head and he kissed her, exploring the warm cavern of her mouth, and she shuddered, her throat flushing, her skin growing rosy as though an inner fire burned deep within.

They had much to talk about—but he would be less distracted if they addressed physical needs first. He carried her into the bedroom. When he released her, he tumbled her down onto the bed and leaned over her. He ran his hands through the luxurious array of her hair fanned out beneath her.

"Bella. You are so beautiful," he whispered. It still astonished him how much she could affect him. When he was with her, he could forget, for a while, all the pressing, dangerous concerns that surrounded him.

And yet, as he kissed her again, he knew that he was indulging himself recklessly in her. She was an addictive drug, taking his mind away from what he needed to do to survive. He should spend less time with her, more time making sure his plans came to fruition.

And yet—he could not tear himself away from her. Not tonight, at least. He would stay with her tonight. Tomorrow—tomorrow would be soon enough to do what he needed to do.


	44. Chapter 44

_Kim_

Kim crouched behind a leaking oil drum in the old parking garage, heart pounding. When she had decided to follow James and Lonnie she had no clue what was really going on. She had snuck in and watched their meeting with the creepy old guy and overheard just enough of their plans to make her shake with terror.

Long after they had left, she remained curled into a small ball on the bare concrete floor, arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth. The gasoline fumes burned her nose but she made no move to leave.

This was it. Her chance to finally get revenge on Edward and that girl. She could tell James she wanted in. She could help them with their plan to destroy Edward.

Even by doing nothing, she could get her revenge. She could allow the plotters to go forward and benefit from the bloody destruction.

That was probably the best thing to do. It sounded like the old guy's plan was going to succeed, but you never knew around Edward. You never wanted to get on his bad side, just in case. It probably wouldn't be smart for her to take sides in this battle. All she'd have to do is say nothing and let it happen.

She hated Edward with all her heart, even now that the broken bones and bruises had long healed.

She wanted to see him bloody and dead on the ground. She would look at his body and she would laugh. She'd spit on his cold flesh. She'd kick his gorgeous face; see those beautiful eyes closed forever, that velvet voice stilled for eternity.

Why did her eyes feel wet? She hated him.

She wanted nothing more than to bring him down.

She angrily wiped the tears from her face.

Edward thought less than nothing of her. If the tables were turned, he'd let her die. He'd use her or kill her if it amused him.

She bent her head to her knees and closed her eyes. She rocked back and forth for a long time, until her tears finally dried up.

Then she knew.

She couldn't let it happen.

Her lips twisted into a sardonic smirk in the darkness. She had it bad. It was crazy, stupid.

Slowly she got to her feet. There was nothing for it. Her course was clear. She slunk out of the parking garage, and once out on the icy, dark street broke into a run.

There was somewhere she had to go.

She had to warn Edward, but she knew she couldn't get in to see him. He was still furious at her and had refused to speak to her or have any contact since the incident with the slip in Bella's apartment.

But she could go to his best friend and second-in-command. The kid who knew more secrets than anyone in their school, who had been Edward's trusted lieutenant since middle school.

She was going to find Emmett.

* * *

 _James_

James swaggered down the main hall past clusters of kids at their lockers. Shouts echoed from up the hall. He was going to enjoy seeing Jacob Black and Alice Brandon going head-to-head. They were both good fighters, fun to watch, and he couldn't wait for a rematch with either of them. He was itching to fight Brandon again after she had taken him off-guard a few months ago. Hopefully his chance would come soon. There was no way someone would be let into his gang without demonstrating their fighting skills.

Kids were gathered in a tight ring around the combatants. James pushed his way through the crowd. Most of them were cheering Alice on. She delivered a sharp right uppercut to her much larger opponent. It was obvious to James's experienced eye that Jacob was pulling his punches. He was much bigger than her and just as fast, although her moves appeared better trained. Jacob was a natural fighter, of course. The two of them shouted insults as though they hated each other, and James gave them kudos for doing that part of the show exceedingly well. He noticed Jasper leaning against a locker with an expression of utter boredom on his face, pretending disinterest. Another good actor.

He admired the grace and elegance of Jacob's style as he sidestepped, spun, and punched. His muscles bunched and flowed, his fine-featured, scowling face flushed red, and his shock of dark hair bobbed and shook. Now, there was an opponent worthy of James himself, as so few opponents were. He paused a moment longer just to enjoy the show before wading in to stop the fight.

"Hey, Black! Shouldn't you be ashamed of beating up on someone half your size?" he called out, and had the pleasure of seeing Jacob's face flush even further with embarrassment.

"Shut up, Witherdale." Breathing hard, Jacob spun so fast James almost didn't block his first blow. James grinned with fierce joy and he returned a volley of punches. Alice gasped for breath, hands on her thighs, watching from the sidelines.

James's grin widened. Jacob would soon have to pretend to be defeated and slink away. He'd be damned if he let the guy pretend. He was going to enjoy pounding his rival into the ground. He moved into a near clinch and delivered a powerful jab to Jacob's lower abdomen. Jacob's breath was knocked out of him, but he still managed to jump back, raising his fists immediately to block the next blow.

All too soon, James heard the annoying voice of a teacher calling on them to knock it off. Shit! That was way too quick. You'd think Jacob and Alice could have planned it better.

Both he and Jacob stopped immediately with the ease of long practice avoiding school staff. Jacob melted into the crowd in one direction, and James faded back in the other, carefully timing it so that he would be shoved close to Alice.

"Nice moves, Witherdale." She rubbed the back of her hand over her face and grinned through a split lip.

"Thanks," he said with a swagger. "That asshole giving you trouble, Brandon?"

"Nothing I can't handle," she said. "The dickhead was accusing me of trying to deal drugs, can you believe it?"

James's jaw dropped in mock dismay. "Really? Black's such an uptight dumbass. He should know better than that." He grinned wickedly at her. "Only Volterra has the right to deal on this campus. And that ain't you."

She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "Not that I wouldn't mind getting into some of that action. I could use the dough."

"Fuck, I dunno anything about that."

At his locker, he twirled his combination. Alice followed him and stood at his elbow, large dark eyes cocky. "Hey big guy," she began.

He spun and grabbed her by the collar. "Shut up, dumbass. You don't wanna call me that."

Her eyes widened and he was gratified to see her swallow. It was good to be feared. That was how it was gonna be from now on. Satisfaction bubbled in his chest. "Sorry! I'm sorry, Witherdale!" He let her go and she staggered. Her voice humbled. "I just—well, everyone says you're the man to see if someone wants anything around this school."

"What's that supposed to mean, bitch?" he said, slamming his locker shut.

Alice drew closer, lowered her voice further. "Everyone says you're a member."

James snorted and chugged down the hall. Alice tagged along behind. "You look too smart to believe what everyone says."

"Witherdale," Alice pleaded, "I really need some money. Couldn't I get in on it? I'd make a good courier because of my size—no one suspects a little girl. And you know I can fight."

"Yeah," he admitted. "You can fight." His face split in a grin. "You sure stomped that son of a bitch Black."

She grinned back. "Bet he didn't like his ass getting kicked by a girl half his size."

He pretended to consider. "All right, Brandon. I'll think about it."

"Thanks! You won't regret it, I swear."

James walked away, thinking of what he would report later that afternoon. Yeah, I won't regret it. But you will. It's all starting now. Time to put the plan in motion. Caius will be ready. Edward's left himself wide open with this one, thinking I'm playing his game to lure her in. He's going down hard. And you, Alice the cop, are just going to be collateral damage.

* * *

 _Bella_

I placed the glassine star on top of my small Christmas tree and stood back to eye it critically, for a moment caught by the glittering, blurred reflections of light through its wavy panes. I always decorated a miniature tree every year, just as Charlie and I used to do back when he was still around. It always made me sad, and this year was worse than usual.

I would be alone again this year, as I almost always was at Christmas. My mother was rarely home during the season, and I had become accustomed to celebrating the holiday alone. But this year I had hoped, for once, that I would be able to spend it with someone I loved.

"I'm terribly sorry to have to appear to distance myself from you, Bella," Edward had said. "But you yourself asked me to leave Volterra. You have to know that if I don't plan my departure carefully, they will kill me."

Yes. It was all my fault. I had asked him to leave the gang, and in my heart I knew it would be dangerous. Should I have asked him to risk his life?

I firmed my lips. Yes. I couldn't live with the activities he was involved in. Even though I hadn't dared to ask him point-blank if drug synthesis was what Volterra was paying him for, it was clear the terrible things he was doing.

He had to stop.

But the thought of what they might do to him – it was the most terrible thing I could imagine.

Part of me wanted to grab him and say, "I don't care what you do, as long as you stay safe. As long as you do whatever it takes to stay alive. Because more than anything else, I couldn't live if you were dead."

This must be the shadow the fortuneteller had warned me about. The terrible dilemma.

"I'll have to spend the winter vacation laying the groundwork for my 'retirement' from Volterra," Edward had continued. "I'm sorry I won't be with you, but it's the best opportunity to finish things up cleanly and safely."

I nodded, biting my lip. He took my hand. "But don't worry. When this is all over we'll be together again, and I'll be free just as you wished."

"Yes," I whispered. "I understand, Edward. It's for the best. But—" I raised my eyes to his. "Please be careful."

"Don't worry. I have everything all planned out. We'll both be safe, as long as you stick with the precautions I've laid out for you."

With his words, my heart chilled further. It hadn't even occurred to me that I myself might be in danger from the gang. But of course there was risk, now that everyone in Volterra knew about me.

So I was spending most of the holiday holed up in my small apartment. What would Charlie say, I wondered, if he knew I was in hiding because I was dating a gang member? I could see him shaking his head.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Bella. How low can you go?"

"But I thought he was the kind of person you'd want for me. A model citizen, straight-A student."

Charlie scolded, "No, you found that dark side of him thrilling somehow. You must've known, from your very first date at the fair, that something wasn't right. But you kept on. Just like your mother. You even slept with him! And after everything you promised me."

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promises."

"You're going to be even sorrier."

The branches of the little pine left long red scratches on my arms as I pulled away, and all the lights on the tree blurred as I blinked away tears.


	45. Chapter 45

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to SunflowerFran who has kindly agreed to beta for us. :) Any mistakes are mine because I tweaked a little after getting it back._

* * *

 _Marcus_

Marcus whistled tunelessly between his teeth as he pipetted liquid into a large test tube clamped over a Bunsen burner. He made a notation in the dog-eared lab notebook on the bench beside him. The latest experiment was yielding excellent results. If it continued this way, he was definitely going to be making a name for himself in the world of biochemistry. He made another observation of the liquid in the test tube and noted it.

He yawned, rubbed the back of his neck, and glanced at his watch. It was quite late. The development of Rapture had ended up being extremely lucrative, but the long hours required for his extra-legal activities on top of his job as chief scientist at Volturi Pharmaceuticals were exhausting. But his work was vital to Aro, providing desperately needed funds to the company. Ever since they had started their student internship program under Marcus's leadership, the company had turned around completely. He was such a brilliant manager. Aro was lucky to have him. The Rapture research was genius.

The drug had all sorts of fascinating effects on the human body. He was opening up an entirely new line of biochemistry research. Certain parts of the earlier work in the development of Rapture looked as if they might lead to the discovery of a new type of anti-depressant. If only he had time to delve more deeply into that area of research. Luckily, his student intern, Edward, was surprisingly good. Still, Marcus didn't want to let him know how important his results actually were, because then the kid might start getting the idea that he was the genius.

And that wouldn't do. No, that wouldn't do at all. The revolution in anti-depressants would be led by the brilliant, the famous, Marcus Volturi.

Soon he would publish certain whitewashed results with himself as first author. Then all those snotty universities that had turned down his job applications, saying his work was 'too business-oriented,' would listen. At last, they would appoint him to that distinguished chair position he had long coveted. Finally, he would get the respect he deserved.

But there were still obstacles in his path to greatness. He frowned. He needed more human subjects. Animal experiments just hadn't provided the results he required. It was regrettable that the last group hadn't survived long. He hadn't been able to observe the changes in brain chemistry he needed. It was too bad he couldn't involve the student interns in that work; he could have used Edward's insight. But that nerdy kid was such a rule-follower that he would never understand the necessity of going around the law. Good thing Aro had made a connection with that man Caius; he could be scary, but sometimes, great sacrifices had to be made for profit. He would tell Aro soon that they needed to send Caius out on another collection run.

The soundproofed lab in the back had already been emptied of the previously failed subjects. Caius had been quite helpful there too.

He would need at least a dozen. Caius charged an exorbitant amount to round up a few decrepit homeless cluttering the downtown alleys of Forks. Worthless individuals. Dregs of society. Not even worth the food they consumed or the air they breathed. Hopefully Aro wouldn't balk at the expense.

The problem with the homeless was that drink, drugs, and exposure had already damaged their bodies. He needed some clean subjects. Caius had hinted he could help there too, mentioning he had his eye on a couple of healthy young specimens he could bring in soon, teenagers from the local high school. Marcus had jumped at the chance, despite the much higher price tag.

Aro shouldn't complain about the cost. Not only was Marcus synthesizing a powerful drug that was making them all rich, but he was also advancing science and helping to end homelessness, one of society's enduring problems. And who would miss a few impoverished teenagers in this overpopulated world? They would probably die in gang violence anyway. Really, Marcus was doing a service to society. He puffed out his chest.

Not only a distinguished chair at the university; they should name a building after him. He could see it now on the campus where they had so humiliated him. Ha! They claimed to be so noble, motivated by the greater good, when Marcus knew all they really wanted was money. Especially since the government had cut their funding. They would come groveling to Volturi Pharmaceuticals. All those condescending professors would beg for the privilege of introducing him at seminars. They would all clamor for the glory of being his colleague. How he would show them. He imagined exactly how he would snub all of those stuffy academics who had dared to ignore him. He could see himself strutting through the building—his building—wearing a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows, his nose in the air.

He heard a knock on the lab door. The night security guard let his visitor into the room. The kid was slight and pallid, the signs of advanced Rapture addiction visible to Marcus's expert eye. Bloodshot eyes, tremors, extreme pallor. Shaggy, shoulder-length, light brown hair fell in an unruly tangle over a dirty shirt collar as the kid sidled into the room, teeth bared in a rictus of a grin.

"Got a truck full of 'volunteers' out in the back parking lot for you," the kid said.

"Good." Marcus looked down his nose at him. Such lack of discipline, addicting himself to such a dangerous drug. He and all the others deserved what they got. "Have them brought to loading dock C."

Time for more scientific progress.


	46. Chapter 46

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to SunflowerFran for her skillful edits to this chapter. All mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Bella_

It had been a long couple of weeks; the new year had begun, and I was starting to go crazy from all the solitude. I was sitting alone in my apartment late one chilly January night and heard a pounding on my door. My heart lurched. Edward had given me strict orders not to open it without checking first.

Glancing through the peephole, I stiffened, heart thumping.

It was Kim.

What could she be doing here? Edward had been right to warn me; they were coming after me.

But Kim was hunched over, one hand wrapped around her upper arm, her harsh panting audible through the wood partition.

"Bella," she called. Her voice was reedy and weak. "Hey, can you let me in?"

I said nothing. My mother would have insisted on calling the police. Edward would have told me not to be foolish. Both of them would have demanded I keep the door shut.

"I know you're in there, Bella. Please—" She coughed. "I'm not gonna hurt you." There was a long pause. "You're one of us now; can you please help me? I've—I've been shot."

I checked the peephole. Blood was seeping out from between her clenched fingers, staining her sleeve. Was it a trick?

Probably. She'd beaten me up. Why should I think she was on my side now just because I was dating a member of her gang? I was "one of them"? Ha. Likely story. Edward had told me to watch out for her. She "didn't have my best interests at heart," he'd said.

But I couldn't just leave her to bleed out at my front door. Hadn't I decided it was time to make my own decisions?

For most of my life, I'd followed my mother's ridiculous rules. Then, in a single moment, I tossed them all aside and devoted myself to Edward.

But his judgment was just as severely lacking as hers. Yes, he'd had a hard life, but that didn't justify his poor choices. And it was because I'd gone along with his lousy decisions that we were stuck in this mess; that I was cringing behind a locked door, not even daring to go to the grocery store.

In hiding. In a modern city in the twenty-first century. Crazy.

Well, it was too bad.

I was done with spending my life afraid. Fuck 'em.

I opened the door.

Kim staggered in and collapsed on the couch. "Thanks," she said, trying to grin at me in her old, insouciant way, but it ended up more like a grimace of pain.

I was shocked at the size of the bloodstain on her clothes, leaking out around the hand she kept tightly wrapped around her left arm. "What happened?"

"Goddamn bastards were chasing me; one of them winged me." Weakness flooded over her. "Lotsa creeps out on the street for some reason. Dunno who or why the fuck they're after me. Been hiding out, waiting till I could come here. Knew you could help me."

"You've lost a lot of blood, and you're going to lose more. You need to go to the hospital."

"No! No hospitals." She slumped lower on the couch. "They'd fucking arrest my ass." Her voice sharpened. "Just lemme stay for a night."

I tugged at my hair. "But I can't take care of you."

"S'easy," she said. "You just gotta take it out." Her eyes flickered open, then shut again. "Give you instructions."

There was no way I could remove a bullet from her arm. "Jacob! You need to go to his clinic. He could help you."

Kim opened one eye, some of her old irony returning. "You gotta be fucking kidding. Jacob wouldn't do shit for me."

"The Black Free Clinic doesn't turn anyone away."

"Nah." Kim slumped again, eyes closing. "They'd call the cops for sure. I'd be dead meat." Her head lolled to one side. Alarmed, I put my hand on her forehead. She was burning up with fever.

It didn't matter what she said, I was going to call the hospital. But Kim grabbed my shoulder before I could get up. "No! Don't tell anyone! You'd be fucking signing my death warrant!"

"You're going to die anyway without treatment."

"S'okay. You can do it. You just need a sharp knife and some boiling water."

She wanted _me_ to perform an operation on her, right in my living room? Was everybody in this world nuts?

"Here's all it takes." Her voice started out faint but strengthened as she continued. "Boil water to sterilize the knife. Then you dig it into the wound and flip out the fucking bullet. Nothing to it." She exhaled with a racking sound I realized was meant to be a laugh. "Get a bowl, something to catch the bullet in, to keep all the blood from wrecking your nice couch."

I stared at her, hearing Charlie scoff. "Aiding and abetting a gang member? Let's see, that's ten years to life. Just call 911 instead."

My mother said, "You're not capable of doing a job that requires that much skill. You know how clumsy you are."

Edward added, "It's probably all a trick anyway. You know she hates you."

That made me angry.

"Shut up already! I'm not gonna let her die!"

I went to the bathroom; got scissors and a washcloth down from the shelf; ran hot water on the towel. Returning, I found her slumped over, unconscious. I cut away the sleeve of her shirt to expose the wound. I hissed in dismay. The edges of the hole were jagged and inflamed. Her arm was swollen, angry and red around the wound, and a discoloration had appeared around the edges. Even my untrained eye could recognize the signs of infection and blood poisoning.

I went to the kitchen and set the water boiling. I gathered my equipment, tested the keenness of my best kitchen knife, and dipped it into the water.

I laid everything out on a tray and brought it back to the couch where Kim lay, now restlessly muttering to herself.

"All right," I said, my voice startling me with its firmness. "I'm going to do it now, Kim. Are you ready?"

She steeled herself, eyes going hard. "I'm ready."

Carefully, I removed the makeshift bandage that had been wrapped around her arm. It was soaked with blood. Kim winced but said nothing. I wrapped a strip of cloth around her bicep to stave off more bleeding and gave her another washcloth. She clenched it between her teeth and nodded.

Pushing up my sleeves, I picked up the knife. I felt a little faint but took a firmer hold and kept it steady. I brought the knife to the wound; probed quickly and felt it hit something hard. Kim grunted into the cloth as her eyes rolled back in her head. With a movement that surprised me with its surety, I shifted the angle of the knife, dug in further and with a flip of my wrist scooped out the offending slug of metal. It clanged into the bowl along with more blood, mercifully kept from spurting thanks to the tourniquet around her arm.

Kim gasped, her eyes rolled, and she passed out. I cleaned the wound with hot water and rebandaged it, my hands rock steady now, as though I had somehow tapped into some innate source of strength.

I wiped a cool cloth over Kim's forehead. Her fever was still high, but surely she would be feeling better by the next morning.

"Tell the Captain," she muttered, twisting her head back and forth.

"Shhh," I said. "Be quiet now and rest."

"No!" Her eyes opened in a moment of lucidity. "S'important. You gotta tell the Captain that Witherdale's turned traitor." Her breath came in harsh gasps and she could hardly get out the words. "And I think Biers too. He needs to know." Her eyes closed again and she slumped back, losing consciousness.

I stared down at her in dismay. Was there a civil war going on in Volterra? What did this have to do with Edward's 'retirement plan'? And why would Kim think I had any way to contact the Captain of Volterra? Surely the Captain would see Edward's departure as a betrayal. But what Kim was saying sounded like a warning.

I needed to talk directly with Edward, but his instructions had been very clear.

"Don't try to contact me under any circumstances," he had cautioned. "There will be a trace on my phone. For your own protection, I'm going to pretend to lose interest in you. That way, if there's any reaction to my departure from Volterra, it will be deflected from you."

I settled back down on my heels. I was done with blindly following Edward's instructions. It was time to get a few questions answered. What was really going on?

And who, after all, was the Captain?

As I rubbed my hand over my face, trying to plan my next step, there was another knock at the door.


	47. Chapter 47

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to SunflowerFran for being our beta. All mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Bella_

Hearing the taps on my door and darting a glance at the woman passed out on my couch, I ran to the peephole. At the sight of the person on the other side, I threw the door open.

Edward.

His hair was disheveled and there were shadows under his eyes, but my heart leaped as I threw myself into his arms. Immediately, my mind conveniently forgot all the suspicions and worries I had while he was gone.

"Edward! I've missed you so much!"

"There isn't enough oxygen in the air without you either, Bella." He held me for a long moment before gently detaching himself and closing the door. When he saw Kim lying on the couch his voice became cold and hard. "What is she doing here?"

"She came to my door with a bullet wound, can you believe it?" I fluttered my hands and spoke far too rapidly. "I know what you said about not letting anyone in, and I was going to pretend I wasn't there, but she said she knew I was, and all she wanted was for me to help her, and—"

Edward cut off my babbling by holding a finger over my lips. "Bella, what have I told you about being far too trusting?" He strode to the couch and examined the unconscious Kim, checking the bandage on her upper arm.

"What story did she feed you?" His expression was icy.

"But it was true! She'd been shot."

"Did she say who did it?"

"She was kind of delirious. She started talking about James and Riley being traitors."

"I see. How interesting," he remarked, glancing at the tray piled with bloody washcloths. "It seems I'll have to talk to her after all. That bullet wound might need care," he added idly, his fingers going to the bandage. Kim stirred restlessly at his touch, moaning.

"I had to take the bullet out of her arm myself."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "You did? Impressive. I didn't think you had any medical training."

"I don't."

He carefully unwrapped the bandage and inspected the wound. "This was a good job."

"It's still infected," I said.

"But the swelling is going down. Did you pour alcohol on it?"

I nodded.

"I left a first-aid kit in your bathroom. Why don't you get her an antibiotic?"

I had taken out the antibiotic pills earlier, not too surprised to see prescription medication in Edward's special first-aid kit. I'd thought I'd give one to Kim when she woke up, so it only took me a few seconds to grab the pills and return to the living room. Edward had already awakened Kim and was speaking to her in a low voice.

"But, Captain—" Kim was objecting weakly when I came in. I stopped, stunned. My legs felt weak and I swayed. Did she really just address Edward as 'Captain'? Was that why Kim had been saying to me, 'Tell the Captain'? Had Edward been lying again, all this time? But no. Edward couldn't be the one she was referring to. It was just not possible… or was it? As I stared at them in complete shock, the two of them glanced at me, Kim's face displaying panic, Edward's neutral as always.

"No—" I said, my hands splayed in front of me in unconscious defense.

Edward rose to take the medicine, smiling. "Thanks for the antibiotic. Kim was just telling me some details of the Captain's latest plans," he said smoothly. "I hope you understand this is all confidential."

He took the medication from my boneless hand. He was so good at lying. His cover personality as a harmless nerd was so well-crafted. My mind spun back over everything he had told me about the gang. He had never seemed afraid of them, unlike every other person I'd heard. Whenever he had spoken of them, he always seemed confident that they would act exactly as he expected. In the back of my mind, I'd known that something seemed off. He didn't act like someone who performed tasks or ran errands for a dangerous criminal gang.

On the contrary.

He acted like he was in command.

I had written it off as his personality and his supreme sense of self-confidence. No. I'd lied to myself because I hadn't wanted to admit that my boyfriend was the kind of person who could be the leader of a murderous criminal gang.

"No," I said again.

Edward ignored the pills in his hand. His facial expression reflected only mild puzzlement. "What's wrong, Bella?"

"No—it can't be," I whispered.

He took me in his arms. I was stiff and shaking. "Come," he said in a reassuring tone. "Sit down on the couch. You look like you're going to faint. I know it can be rather disconcerting to have a woman with a bullet wound end up in your living room."

I sat and leaned against him. He stroked my hair. "Shall I make you something warm, Bella?" He let me slump back against the couch. "Kim, why don't you tell us what happened while I make hot chocolate?"

Obediently, Kim struggled to a semi-reclining position, and he headed for the kitchen. "Okay, I was on a raid for—for the Captain. Everything's been a fucking mess lately." She took a few ragged breaths. "I already reported to Rory about James's meeting with this creepy guy last week. So I decided to follow him last night.

"It was dark and raining and pretty hard to see where he was going. But finally, he went inside an old building on Ninth Street. Another guy was lurking around, too, and I saw him go in the side door. It was Jasper Hale." She glanced sidelong at me. "You know, the narc."

Edward said nothing as he pulled down some mugs from the cupboard.

The pot began a warbling whistle. "I saw Riley hanging around too. James is a traitor," Kim's voice was harsh. "Dunno about Riley. I was gonna wait for James and the narc to come out, but then—someone fucking shot me. I never saw them." She closed her eyes. "So I ducked behind some garbage in the alley. Started feeling kinda faint, thought they'd come back to finish me off, so I snuck away to hide. When I woke up, I saw I was near Bella's apartment from our previous, I mean, from—anyway, I knew it was near. I thought, hey, she's a member now, maybe she'll help." She shrugged. "Didn't have anywhere else to go."

I watched Edward's expression to see how he would react. But he remained outwardly calm as he poured boiling water into three mugs.

"That fucking traitor James is planning to k-" She broke off and glanced at me again. "He's gonna do some bad shit."

Edward returned to the living room with three mugs steaming on a tray. The rich smell of chocolate filled the room. "Kim, just because James spends a little time talking with a narc doesn't make him a traitor."

"Fuck," Kim whispered. "Didn't you get the report from Rory?"

"There are many possible reasons why James could have been doing what he's doing." Edward handed each of us a mug and his voice was reasonable as he ticked off points on his fingers. "He could have been on special orders from the Captain. He could have been gathering information. He could have been trying to suborn Hale." He sipped his hot chocolate. "Kim, you're jumping to conclusions. I'm sure James's loyalty is not in question."

Kim shook her head, confused. "No…"

"Why are you so solicitous of my welfare? Haven't you and I been at odds lately?"

"You know I've always been loyal." Her eyes slid over to me. "Loyal to Volterra, that is. Uh, we both are." The fever hazed her eyes and she lowered her mug.

Edward took it as she slumped over and emitted a very loud snore.

I would have laughed, but I was also very sleepy. I yawned widely, surprised. I thought the adrenaline rush from earlier would keep me awake for a long time. Edward watched me over the rim of his mug.

I lay back on the couch, closing my eyes. Edward's fingers took the mug from mine. He lifted me, carried me into the bedroom and gently tucked me into bed. Just like Charlie would carry me to bed when I was very young. But I could no longer think coherently, and the last thing I remembered was the comforting touch of Edward's hand, folding the blankets over me.


	48. Chapter 48

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to our beta SunflowerFran. All mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Edward_

Edward watched Bella, lying peacefully asleep in her bed, her hair spread across the pillow, her face blessedly relaxed now, no longer filled with that soul-wrenching doubt and agony—doubt about him. He turned away from her, his face twisting since no one could see it. Pain tore at him like a knife, as though his chest had been cut open and his blood had turned to acid. It flashed through his entire body, tearing apart every cell, every sinew. It had finally become real to him: he might lose her, and it was agony.

Slipping a knockout drug into both of their drinks had been overkill; rather inelegant of him. But when he had seen the shock in Bella's eyes after Kim had made that clumsy slip in front of her, he had, uncharacteristically, panicked. He had only wanted to get Kim, the blundering idiot, away from Bella by any means possible, without damaging himself in her eyes any further.

He had planned to reveal the truth to Bella, but not so soon, and not so abruptly. Now everything involving Bella was spinning out of control, ironically, just as his other plans were going so well. He wasn't used to having things go so far awry. He wasn't used to having to deal with—feelings. He had always thought he was a rational being.

How could he have been so wrong?

So wrong about so many things.

It was hard to believe, but Bella had forgiven Kim; had forgiven someone who had clearly wronged her. In his world of revenge, justice, and retribution, such a thing was unthinkable. Foolish. Insanely naïve.

And yet… he could see it in Kim's eyes. Whatever hatred she had once borne in her heart toward Bella had dissolved. She had become, against all odds, a friend.

A friend.

A word that had once held no meaning for him.

He went back to the other room, took out his cell phone. He made a call, gave the order to have Kim taken to the clubhouse and kept locked up for safety. He would decide what to do with her later.

He returned to Bella's bedroom and sat down on the bed beside her. And there, where no one could see, he put his head in his hands.

He had always been so successful at hiding his emotions, at convincing others that he felt nothing. He had long ago learned never to show how he truly felt on his face. It was to his advantage to be thought of as an emotionless bastard. But now, this feeling was so deep, so wracking, that if he released even a sliver, it would overwhelm him. Destroy him. Only his iron control, honed since his early childhood, could keep his emotions at bay.

Bella's lips were gently parted, her lashes brushing her cheeks. He knew how she would react when she finally admitted to herself that he was the Captain of Volterra. She would be in denial a little longer, but eventually she would realize the truth.

If he were a good man, he thought bitterly, a decent and good man, he would let Bella go. She clearly deserved someone far better than him. Someone who wouldn't expose her to danger, someone who wouldn't threaten her values, someone who wasn't hard and cold, and yes, evil, like him. All the love, all the goodness, all the things that mattered had been burned out of him. He was eighteen and all used up.

He had done it to himself.

She deserved a good man who could love her the way she needed to be loved.

He should walk away. For her sake. Make it utterly clear to her and everyone else that he was done with her. Make the pretend distance real.

Take up with someone else.

But even as he thought it his mind rejected the idea violently. Take up with someone else? There would never be anyone else. He couldn't even pretend with anyone else. Ever. How could he have imitation sex with anyone now that he had tasted the real thing? Now that he knew the kind of love that went bone deep. Soul deep. The pull toward another human being that slammed into you, took you over with a force more fundamental than gravity.

It was simple now. Bella was the sun. He was a planet in her orbit, now and forever. He could no more leave her than the moon could leave the earth, than a molecule could shed its nucleus. Bound to her by the strongest force in the universe.

If she left him, everything would shut down. The moment she was gone, there would no longer be any direction, any sense, any foundation to his life. His heart would beat a meaningless rhythm until it inevitably and rapidly ground to a stop. He would spend what little time he had left making up for the evil he had done on this earth. It was a debt that was far too great to pay, but he would do what he could.

And then… he would find a way to die the death he deserved.

If he were a good man, he would accept that fate and leave Bella to a better one.

But…

But he was not a good man.

He stretched out on the bed full-length, facing her as she slept. He ran his hands through her warm, silky hair, stroked her cheeks gently with his thumbs, and she half-turned into his touch, murmuring. He thought he heard his name on her lips, and he leaned forward to kiss those lips, gently. They were soft, soft and warm, alive and vibrant. Life-giving.

No. Giving up was not an option.

He would do whatever it took to earn her love.

Even if it meant playing by her rules.

Even if it meant giving up everything for her.

He would change his plans. At least, he could count on one person who was utterly loyal.

He took out his phone. "There's something urgent I need to do at the lab. In the meantime, I have another task for you, Emmett."

* * *

 _Alec_

Alec stared at the open file on his computer, his heart thumping. He had just been playing around at the lab, pretending he was the infamous hacker Anonymous Alec, breaking into major computer systems around the globe. He'd tried a few of his uncle's old passwords, which he had found in his desk drawer, and had thought it might be fun to put one over on the old man. But as the text scrolled past his eyes, he broke into a sweat. If this was what it looked like, the old man was not the person he thought he knew.

He swallowed, trying to decide what to do. This was something bigger than he was used to handling. He frowned. Mr. Aro had been giving him a hard time about slacking off at work and not doing his homework. Why, the hypocrite! If Alec was right about what was going on here, his uncle and Mr. Aro were involved in some big time criminal activity.

Alec closed his eyes. He remembered a conversation in the break room a few months ago. It now made so much more sense. Mr. Aro had complained that finances were bad, and had announced that he might have to " _follow in DeLorean's footsteps_." There had been general laughter from the other adults, including Uncle Marcus.

When Alec had demanded an explanation, Uncle Marcus, after much laughter, had finally said that John DeLorean was the founder of an auto manufacturer a few decades ago who had run into financial trouble while designing an innovative car he thought would take the world by storm.

"Yeah," added Mr. Aro, grinning. "He made a car that was so fast, it could really _suck up the white line_." Everybody else broke up into helpless laughter. Annoyed, Alec had demanded that they share the joke.

Uncle Marcus scratched his head as if unsure if he should explain something such as this to delicate ears. "They say that DeLorean entered into a drug deal, trying to move a large shipment of cocaine in order to get quick cash to shore up his floundering car company."

"You're not serious about doing that here!" Alec demanded, and the adults had exchanged glances.

"No, of course not, Alec," said Mr. Aro. "DeLorean ended up in jail."

"And his car was a piece of shit," added Uncle Marcus with a snort.

Alec had almost forgotten the discussion, writing it off as another of those old-timer 'in' jokes the adults seemed overly fond of. Recalling the conversation once again, his heart hammered. He stared at the chemical formulas scrolling across his screen. He needed to talk to someone. But who? Not Uncle Marcus, not the cops. He didn't want to get either himself or his uncle in trouble. Then he thought of his sister. He and Jane were constantly at each other's throats, but when the chips were down, there was no one he could count on more. He yanked his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Breaking news, Jane!" he stage-whispered when she answered. "Come to the second-floor computer lab. I've got a life-or-death hack I need to show you."

* * *

 _Edward_

Edward glanced at the lab clock. 4 AM. He rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. His eyes were starting to blur. He'd been running tests for hours, comparing the results of his molecular simulations on the computer with the results in his test tubes. Nothing yet.

The door banged open and Aro entered.

"Working late, Edward?" Aro smiled with a thin veneer of benevolence. "I'm so glad to see our student interns being so enthusiastic."

"I'm just following up on that line of research you asked me to take, to enhance the addictive potential of Rapture."

Aro rubbed his hands together. "Good, good. Any results?"

"Not yet. But Marcus has been after me to work on another one of his pet projects. Don't you think we should tell him what's going on?"

"No, not at this point. Marcus gets distracted too easily. I need him utterly focused where I want him. Don't worry, we will tell him everything soon."

"Will you get Caius off my back then? He's pushing me too hard, threatening me."

Aro produced a sickly smile. "Don't worry. As long as you keep doing what you're doing, you and everyone else will be safe."

Edward clenched his fists. "I don't think so. It's worse than anything I expected. I've found signs that there's an unpredictable environmental factor that when combined with Rapture is more deadly than we thought. Even the slightest trace can then cause cellular degeneration at the telomere level. It means that everyone who's handled Rapture is at risk. Not just the people who've taken it internally. Trace amounts on the skin could be enough to trigger this response."

"Oh, come now, my boy. It can't be that bad. I'm sure you're exaggerating."

Edward shot him a level glance. "Do you want to take that risk? You've been exposed as well."

"And I feel fine, my boy." He chuckled, revealing yellowed teeth. "Just keep on with what you're doing. Soon enough I'll have exactly what I need."

Edward's face twisted with curiosity and frustration. "Which is what?"

Aro laughed. "You have no need to know. Besides, do you really want that on your conscience? You're the one who invented Rapture, after all. Just remember, do as you're told, and you and your—associates—will prosper and profit." His joviality dropped away from him like the stroke of a knife.

"Fail, and you will all die."


	49. Chapter 49

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to SunflowerFran for her helpful work as beta on this chapter. All mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Alec_

"See?" Alec pointed out the next file to Jane. She sat beside him on a lab stool as they both huddled over the computer screen. Her brows were drawn down, and she tugged absently at her pink-and-white t-shirt as she read.

"I don't know, Alec."

"Look," said Alec, much more confident now in the presence of his sister. "It's clear from this file that Uncle Marcus and Mr. Aro are working together to make some illegal drug. And they're working with that dork Edward. You can see all the evidence here in black and white!"

"I don't know," she repeated, twisting the end of one of her ponytails around a finger. "What are we going to do? Is Uncle going to be arrested? Do you really want to get Uncle in trouble? And Mr. Aro?"

"You're right," he said, pounding his fist decisively into his open palm. "We don't have enough to talk to the police or to Uncle. We need to do more research. Gather sufficient evidence. Like detectives, or private eyes," he said, warming to his subject. "Here's what we do," he said. "We tail them!" He could already see himself sneaking around behind the nefarious suspects. He just needed to get the appropriate clothing for his new career. A trenchcoat?

But Jane was aghast. "Tail them? What if we get caught?"

He waved one hand dismissively. "Aw, Uncle would never hurt us, Jane."

"If he's involved with a drug deal," she pointed out, "he's dealing with people who wouldn't hesitate to kill a couple of kids who poked their noses into the wrong place."

"Naw." Alec was sure of himself now. A trenchcoat wouldn't be dashing enough. How about a fedora? "Uncle would keep them under control. Look, it seems that Edward Cullen is their link to the gang at Forks High. Now does that guy look dangerous to you?" He put his hands on his hips, tilting his head at what he imagined would be the right angle if he had some rakish headgear.

"No," she said, pursing her lips. "He just seems like a bit of a nerd." Then her mouth firmed. "But if he's working with a gang, then he's our enemy. We've got to defeat him."

"That's the spirit," said Alec with satisfaction. A fedora it was. "We'll tail Edward when he leaves the building after work, find out what he's up to."

* * *

 _Bella_

I pulled my books from my locker in a daze that had persisted since yesterday morning. I had awakened, groggy and sluggish, to an empty apartment and a note from Edward saying he would make sure Kim received proper treatment. I hadn't been able to contact him since then.

I still couldn't believe it.

He couldn't be the Captain. Not Edward. I needed to talk to him.

"Hey, Bella!" Leah's voice rose over the hubbub in the hall. "What's up?"

I pasted a smile on my face and spun to greet her. "Not much. Just waiting on my early action college admissions. How are things with you?" I was getting a lot better at pretending on a moment's notice.

Leah shrugged. "I haven't seen Edward around much. He's not sick, is he? Did you give him that terrible flu you got over December break?"

"He's been visiting colleges. I haven't seen him much either."

Leah's eyes pierced me. "There's nothing wrong between the two of you, is there?"

Damn her. She was far too perceptive. What could I say? Oh, nothing's wrong, really, other than just finding out that my boyfriend might be a drug lord and murderer?

No. It couldn't be.

"Leah, how much of what you told me about Volterra is really true? I mean about all the killing."

Leah laughed. "Aaand she changes the subject."

"I was just worried. I heard gunshots outside my apartment a couple days ago."

Her brows lowered. "I hope you've stopped doing your laundry at midnight, Bella. You need to be more careful."

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"What question?" Jessica strolled up to us, eating a cupcake. She licked icing off her fingers.

"Did you bring any for us?" Leah folded her arms.

Jessica grinned and waved an Apricot Apron bag. "You're in luck."

"Ooh, our carrot raisin cupcakes are my favorite." My mouth watered. "You know, Mrs. Rojas changed the recipe to use all my suggestions."

"Mmmm," Jessica said. "Well, whatever you did, it's delicious."

Leah groaned. "Don't encourage her, Jessica, or she's going to start nerding out about chemistry in cooking or how eggs are an efficient binder for methyl cellulose or something."

I frowned. She was talking nonsense. And I wasn't too much of a cooking nerd, was I? Although, at lunch the day before I _had_ gone on and on about the amazing properties of eggs.

"Okay, then, what were you talking about?" Jessica asked.

"How many of those wild rumors you were spouting about Volterra last fall were true. Are there really mass murderers in our school?"

"Oh." Jessica's lips tightened. "I don't really know. People say all sorts of things. I guess most of that stuff was kind of exaggerated." She crumpled up the paper bag and stuffed it in her backpack. "I gotta go to class." She headed off.

"See?" Leah said to me. "Jessica knows all the gossip and she's not worried."

I wrinkled my forehead. It sounded a lot more like someone had been telling her to keep quiet.

Was I getting too cynical and suspicious?

The bell rang and Leah ran off to class. I was late again. I couldn't bring myself to care too much about my attendance record these days.

I slammed my locker shut and almost ran straight into James, standing right behind me.

"I'm sorry!" I ducked to get around him.

He blocked me with his arm, a disturbing smile on his face. "No need to apologize, Bella, especially since we're _such_ close friends." He brought his face near to mine, and I shuddered. "I got something important to tell you." His breath reeked of cigarettes and rotten meat, and I tried not to wince.

He leaned in further and I held my breath. "There's something about your boyfriend you should know."

My heart pounded in my chest. "What?"

"Nah, I won't tell you." He held up a hand to forestall my protest. "'Cause you won't believe me. Better show you directly."

"You're acting really confusing," I said.

He leaned in again, still whispering. "Go to room B13 at two o'clock. There's gonna be a meeting. You might find out something interesting." With a final careless smirk, he walked away.

I stared after him. James was a dangerous bastard. I knew better than to trust him. Kim had said he was a traitor, but Edward had dismissed the suspicion. I shook my head. All these complex undercurrents below the surface of daily life at Forks High were baffling and frustrating.

But I had to handle it.

So what if it was a trap? I could take care of myself. Hadn't Edward himself taught me self-defense?

And where the fuck was he?

I jammed my book into my backpack and decided to follow up on James's tip.

* * *

 _Alice_

Alice paused at the dark doorway and pushed away another wave of dizziness. This was it; her chance to infiltrate Volterra. It was all up to her and her wits now; she was going completely unarmed into the heart of gang territory.

She had asked James, "So what do you think? Can you get me in?"

James hemmed a bit. "I can get you an interview, but after that, it'll be up to you. Sure you wanna do this? Captain decides against you, you'll be killed right then and there."

"I'm sure. Just tell me when."

She strode into the shadowed room. A student was sitting in the darkness at one end, and Alice could not see his face.

Coming closer, her jaw dropped in shock.

It was James.

"You!" she cried.

He lounged in the chair, sporting a wide grin that showed most of his teeth. "Yep, it was me all along. Fooled ya, didn't I?"

Alice gritted her teeth as a wave of disgust ran through her. But she kept her face impassive. "Yes, Captain, you fooled all of us."

He sneered and cocked his head at her. "So tell me, why should I let a little girl like you join us? We value strength and power. Got no room for a girl who's gonna need to put on lipstick or fix her hair every few minutes."

Alice glared. "I don't care who the fuck you think you are, you bastard, but I'm no _little girl_. I can fight better than most of your men and probably can lick you," she spat. "Just give me a chance to prove it." Fists on her hips, she stared straight into his eyes, level with hers even though he was sitting.

There was a long silence. She stood her ground, defiant.

Then his grin widened. "So, the midget has spunk. Maybe you might be useful to us after all." The grin dropped away. "You got one chance. Your first assignment'll be given to you later this week. If you succeed, you move to the next step in the initiation." He grinned again, lasciviously. "Fail, and you'll be made a plaything for the Guards. Not that that wouldn't be fun too."

Alice's defiant glare did not falter. "I won't fail."

"Good. We're always in need of competent members." He lifted a hand and gazed idly at his fingernails. "For some reason, too many of them keep dying on us." His sneer widened. "You're dismissed."


	50. Chapter 50

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to SunflowerFran for her generous help as beta on this chapter. All mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Alec_

"Shhh!" Alec cautioned, sidling into the company parking lot as Jane shadowed him silently. From somewhere he had found an old fedora and mirrored sunglasses. "And here's the world-famous hard-boiled detective, Sneaky Alec, in 'The Case of the Deadly Nerd,'" he announced. Jane rolled her eyes.

Although all the snow had melted, the air was still chilly. A high overcast of eggshell white hung over the city. A bright yellow sports car sat by itself in one corner of the lot. He continued his dialogue in an undertone. "Sneaky Alec was all over the nerd's car like newsprint on day-old fish." Jane's nostrils flared.

Ducking and creeping unnecessarily from car to car as Jane trailed along behind, Alec adjusted his fedora. "The criminal's sports car stood out like a sore thumb in a barrel of bad apples."

Jane choked. "You really need to work on your dialogue," she whispered. "Be serious! We could get into real trouble."

Alec tried the door handle and crowed. "Success! Jerk forgot to lock his car." He preened himself. "Maybe I do have a future as a private detective."

"Shhh!" It was Jane's turn to hush him.

He took a moment to glare at her before carefully sliding into the tiny slot behind the passenger seat. He grunted. "It's a good thing we're both pretty small. Ouch!" he complained as Jane folded herself on top of him. It was even colder inside the car than out in the open air, and the chilled leather of the seat made him shiver. "Geez, fatso, you really need to go on a diet. And here I thought you were good at hide and seek."

The two of them waited in silence, crammed on top of each other in a spot that appeared to be too small to hold a human. Edward had been speaking with Uncle Marcus about the final tasks of the day. He should get to his car any moment now.

Footsteps approached and they almost stopped breathing. Someone opened the car door and slid into the driver's seat. From where Jane was lying, she could just barely catch a glimpse of messy reddish hair. The driver started the car and drove off, accelerating and decelerating rapidly as he maneuvered through the city streets. Jane was thrown on top of Alec several times and barely managed to keep from grunting each time. One of his elbows poked into her ribs painfully.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the car slowed down and pulled into a parking spot. When they heard the driver's footsteps fading off into the distance, Jane poked her head up over the edge, only to be yanked down by her brother. "Get down!" he hissed. Then he too poked up his head. "We're at Forks High!" he whispered. "Edward's heading to the back door. Let's go!"

* * *

 _Alice_

In the basement room, Alice assembled her team for a last-minute briefing. One of the bare lightbulbs had burnt out, making the low-ceilinged room even gloomier. The furnace clanked in the background, casting a dull reddish glow over the faces surrounding her.

James had given her the room's key for her 'mission.' It would be empty for the next two hours.

It should be enough, she calculated, for her to bring the first stage to completion. She checked out her participants.

Jasper scowled, the picture of a murderous brute. Edward stood quietly in a corner, looking exactly like the mild, ineffectual nerd he was. Hopefully, he could act the part she had assigned him. At least, he had a good memory and was reliable. He didn't need to be the world's best actor to fool people. He had brought in two other students to help. Alice had shrugged. She had already gone so far off the rulebook it didn't matter. Emmett leaned casually against the basement wall, fine dark hair hanging in his eyes, acting as though he belonged in this grim place.

Her glance flicked to Laurent Da Revin, standing in the corner, his lips pressed tightly together. He had said not a word during her explanation, appearing almost disgusted by the whole procedure. But when she had quizzed him on his lines and role in the operation, he had read it all back to her letter-perfect.

"Right," Alice said, "does anybody have any final questions?" She probed each of them for insecurities, doubts. There were none. She nodded. "Good, then everybody please take your places. Now we wait."

* * *

 _Bella_

I walked slowly down the long, dark hall at the far end of the school. Most of the ceiling lights in this part of the building were broken and shattered glass piled up against the walls. The fluorescents sputtered over markings and dirt on the walls and floor. I rarely visited this part of the building. My heart pounded as I passed the graffiti scrawled on one of the walls: three concentric diamonds, Volterra's symbol.

I remembered James's warning; it now seemed so long ago. _"See that mark? That means it's Volterra territory and you should stay out. We own this school. You stay out of our way, you'll be okay. But if you cross us—" He drew his finger across his throat. "Get it?"_

Was Edward really the Captain of Volterra, the kind of person who would kill people who crossed him? No, it couldn't be. I shook my head.

I rounded the corner. At the end of the hall, in the flickering light, Laurent stood in front of the double iron doors leading to the basement, braids hanging below his shoulders and over his powerful arms.

He stepped in front of the door, blocking my entrance. "You can't go in there."

I wet my dry lips. "Please," I said. At Laurent's blank stare, I gathered up my resolve and lied again. I was doing it so often these days; I must be getting better at it. "Edward told me to come. I'm just following his orders. You know who I am, right?" If Edward truly had power in the gang, Laurent would let me in.

He eyed me for a few long moments but finally swung the door open. "Go ahead," he said, eyes flicking away from me.

I nodded my thanks and slipped inside. As I made my way down the stairs, voices rose from below. I stopped short on the landing. In the room below, a few people stood in a rough semi-circle around a dark-haired girl with her head bowed: Alice. Emmett leaned on the back wall. But my gaze was drawn to the far end of the room, where a black armchair sat upon a raised platform. Lounging in the chair, completely relaxed, sat Edward. The faint light reflected off his glasses.

I crept closer to listen.


	51. Chapter 51

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to SunflowerFran for her help as beta on this chapter. All mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Alice_

The only noise in the basement room was the slight shuffling of feet as the group took up their positions. Alice stood in the center, near the furnace. Jasper leaned against a wall, cleaning his nails with a switchblade. Edward sat in the armchair at the end of the room, propping his chin on his knuckles. Emmett waited silently at the far wall, arms folded. Laurent was upstairs at the main entrance. The back door had been left unlocked and unguarded for Alec and Jane to sneak in.

It was crazy doing this with civilians, but she didn't have any choice. With the department's budget cuts, they had been outsourcing manpower more and more. Even the department copywriter had been downsized. Alice had to write the dialogue herself. She wasn't much of an author, and she suspected the lines sounded kind of hackneyed. And the students had been downright eager to help her out. She pushed down her momentary twinge of conscience by telling herself that it was unlikely that any violence would occur at this stage of the operation.

They waited. No one spoke as the long minutes went by. Then they heard stealthy footsteps creeping up from the back entrance.

It was their cue. Alice nodded at Jasper to begin.

"Got the latest shipment from Aro Volturi. He said that Marcus was getting sloppy and almost had an accident in the lab. He sounded angry, but then he demanded more money."

Edward leaned forward and said, "That doesn't sound too good. Emmett, have you tested the shipment yet?"

"The quality of the latest batch isn't up to par." Emmett snapped his blade shut. "I think it's time we eliminated Aro and Marcus. We have the formula and they're not useful anymore."

Alice said, "Now wait a minute. I agreed to work for you only because you promised there wouldn't be any killing involved. I don't want to be involved in murder."

There was another soft shuffle of footsteps, this time from the stairs leading down from the main door. The faint sound was almost drowned out by Alice's voice.

Edward said, "So, you no longer wish to be a courier for me, Alice?" He shifted in his seat. "In that case, you're no longer of any use to me. Kill her, Emmett."

"Aww, not my new bestie," Emmett ad-libbed mockingly. He moved forward, knife ready.

* * *

 _Edward_

There was a faint gasp from above and Edward glanced up at the sound. Silhouetted halfway down the steps, Bella stood frozen in mid-step.

Without a second of hesitation, Edward jumped from his chair and dashed up the stairs. "Bella, what are you doing here?"

She stuttered, but nothing coherent came out of her mouth. His lips in a stern line, Edward steered her up the stairs with a hand in the middle of her back. Bella twisted and tried to see what was going on behind them, but he pushed her forward inexorably.

Before she could protest, they were out the door. Edward's gaze fell upon Laurent.

"Laurent," he said, voice heavy with menace, "I thought you were guarding the door."

Laurent paled. "I-I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." Bella flinched.

"Edward," she asked, her voice squeaking, "you weren't really ordering Emmett to kill Alice, were you?"

"Of course not. Nothing there was as it seems." He ran his hand through her hair and brought his lips close to her ear. "You surely don't think I would do anything like that, do you?"

"I—I don't know, Edward. I mean—" She glanced sidelong at Laurent. "I've heard the rumors about the Captain. I couldn't believe they were about you, but…" Her pulse throbbed under the skin of her wrist, held loosely in his grip. He couldn't tear his eyes off the struggle in her face as she fought to reconcile the two contradictory pictures she'd built of him.

She was going to think he had still been lying to her.

Which of course he had been, just not in the way she thought she had witnessed.

Edward tightened his lips. "No, you don't understand." He lowered his voice. "I'm actually working with the police. This is an undercover sting to help stop the spread of Rapture."

Bella stopped and stared at him. Her face worked, and emotions flashed across it too fast for him to follow. Then she put her hands on her hips and glared. "Edward, you're not up to your usual skill at lying. That's way too far-fetched."

Damn. He needed to explain. He could explain anything, but there was just no time to talk to her now. He was already taking critical seconds away from Alice's plans.

He would talk to Bella after class, only a couple of hours more. Her opinions wouldn't harden in such a short time. He still had time to convince her.

After all, this time he had the truth on his side.

And the truth was what really mattered, wasn't it? After all his years of lying, now that he had finally come to value honesty, surely telling the truth would make everything come out right.

It had to.

"We'll talk about it later. But I need to get back to my part of the show, or the sting will be endangered. Laurent, escort Bella back to class. And get someone else to stand guard at this door." His lips thinned. As Laurent steered her away, Edward added in a low, intense voice, "I promise I'll explain everything as soon as I can."

He returned to the basement room, his emotions in turmoil, although nothing showed on his face. Fortunately, not much appeared to have happened while he was distracted by Bella's arrival. As planned, Jasper had stepped in and blocked Emmett's knife. They were now engaged in a heated argument while Alice begged to be reinstated, swearing she would continue to participate in the gang.

Edward stepped calmly back into the fray. "Both of you," he commanded, "stop brawling at once." He glanced at Alice. "She says she wants to continue; that's fine."

Emmett stepped away from Alice and his knife disappeared. "Whatever you say, Captain."

"Now," Edward continued, keeping his face smooth despite the clichéd dialogue Alice had written, "I agree with you, Emmett. Aro and Marcus have outlived their usefulness. I want you to find them tonight and finish them off. They both always work late and come home late from the lab. Make it look like a robbery."

Emmett nodded. "Yes, Captain."

They all listened for sounds from the back of the room where Alec and Jane were hiding. After a moment, they heard a stealthy patter of retreating feet. The two were rushing to warn their uncle and boss. Alice nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. She signaled to her team. Officers had been stationed outside, ready to follow Alec and Jane. They would pick up the kids and get them to talk. Her plan was working perfectly.

All the while, Edward's mind was spinning, only a fraction of his attention on the scene playing out before him; instead, he was thinking only about what he would say to Bella.

He just wanted to finish this task so that he could get back to her and make it all better.

Where had it all gone wrong?

It had seemed so amusing at first. Alice had followed every clue, had snapped at every bit of bait. The police's interests lined up exactly with his planned revenge, after all.

He had given her his report a few days ago. She glanced up at him with a big grin splitting her face. "Edward, you've done it! This is exactly what we need."

"I thought you'd be pleased."

"Pleased doesn't begin to say how I feel." Alice got up and paced around the small room. "It's time for us to move into the final act." There was a gleam in her eye. "Yes. This Alec and Jane will be our conduits to Marcus and Aro. Now, we have to be careful to make sure we can rope them all in. Okay, here's what we need to do."

Edward kept his face attentive and serious as she laid out her plan.

"You can get Alec and Jane to the school, right?"

"Well, I did find that kid checking out my car once." He shook his head. "But it would be pretty obvious if they were hiding in there."

Alice waved a hand. "Just as long as you can pretend you don't notice them."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure. I'm good at pretending to be clueless."

She paced back and forth, mumbling to herself, and then sat down, pulled out a pad of paper and drew on it.

After a while, he chuckled. "Are those cats you're drawing there?"

Alice glowered at him. "Why is everybody a critic? I just want to make sure that we keep all the principals straight. That's what we learned in training; it's important to be aware of all the players and all their roles in the operation."

Edward straightened his face, but his lips were still twitching. "I understand."

Alice continued drawing. "Now—" she began, then paused and glared at Edward.

"What?"

"I'm waiting for you to criticize my drawing skills."

"Alice," Edward said, smiling, "I would never be so rude."

She snorted and resumed drawing. "At least someone in this school has some manners," she muttered under her breath. She continued aloud, "I want you, me, and a couple more of us to stage a meeting in the school basement."

"The basement? It's off-limits to students."

"Leave that to me. I'll get it arranged," she promised with a dismissive sweep of her hand.

"All right," he said. She slid the pad of paper to face him. "Who are all those, uh, people?"

"These are the 'gang members,'" she explained. "And over here, this is you, sitting in the chair at the end of the room."

He stared at the cat with pointy ears and square glasses and tried not to laugh. "Me? What am I supposed to be doing?"

"I want you to play the gang leader."

He appeared taken aback. "Why me?"

"I think you're the best choice because of your knowledge of chemistry, and because you work at Volturi Pharmaceuticals and have connections with Aro and Marcus."

"Are you seriously expecting me to pretend to be the 'Captain' of Volterra?" Edward could not stop the amusement from overflowing into his voice. Then he forced himself to keep a straight face. "The man's a bloodthirsty bastard, isn't he? How could I play someone like that?"

Alice waved her hand airily. "Haven't you watched gangster movies? I'll have a script ready for you. All you have to do is act tough and casually order a few deaths."

"I don't know."

She folded her arms. "Come on! It's the only way I'll be able to get a warrant sworn out for Volturi Pharmaceuticals. The district judge has been really leery of giving me one lately for some reason." She frowned. "And remember, you're only trying to fool a couple of kids. It's not like you need to win an Academy Award."

He glanced sharply at Alice. Could this all be a trap? Could she possibly know the truth?

No, her face was trivially easy to read. She was just another incompetent cop in over her head. Still, better to be safe.

"But it's risky for me personally. I may end up having to do something illegal. It may look like I'm actually involved with this gang or with Rapture sales. It could hurt my admission to Harvard next year."

Alice scowled. He could hear her thoughts as though she had spoken them aloud. _What a nerd, worrying about trivial things like college acceptances when so much is at stake. But he's shown himself to be a valuable asset to our team, so I'll cut him some slack._ "Don't worry. I'll write up a document detailing your role in our plans and giving you immunity from prosecution even if you have to skirt the law at times. Will that satisfy you?"

Edward nodded slowly. "Yes. I can accept that."

"Good. Now here's what I want you to do."

Edward had been so amused by the plan that he had decided to go along with it, although it was poorly thought out and relied on a number of dubious elements with a low probability of success. It was far from the type of scheme he would use. But it would be utterly entertaining. The immunity from prosecution was the icing on the cake.

But now he shook his head. He'd been stupid to let entertainment get in the way of practicality. Just another example of how distracted he'd been. He was losing his touch, and now was exactly the wrong time for that to happen.

It was terribly ironic that Bella would falter in her belief toward him the one time he was actually working on the side of the police, doing something she would have approved of.

He needed to talk to her. He'd catch her on the way home from school.

His cell phone buzzed. "Captain, I've got some bad news. Can we meet?"


	52. Chapter 52

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _for her amazingly fast turnaround as beta. Any mistakes are mine since I can never resist tweaking before posting._

* * *

 _Bella_

I cut class.

Hey, when you hang out with drug dealers and murderers, you start doing some bad things.

Besides, I really couldn't concentrate on Taylor polynomials today. I ran straight home, slammed my apartment door, and sank to the floor, face buried in my knees.

The whole time, the scene in the basement room was replaying in my head. I kept on hearing Edward's calm, quiet, and beautiful voice saying over and over again, _"Alice, you're no longer of any use to me. Kill her, Emmett."_

No.

It couldn't be true.

I remembered Jessica's gossip at lunch that day so long ago. _"They say the Captain's been running the gang since he was twelve. They say that even though he's only a high school student, he's already lost count of the number of people he's ordered killed."_

No.

Edward didn't kill people. He couldn't. He wasn't that sort of person.

" _Kill her, Emmett."_

No.

" _Kill her."_

There was a black roaring somewhere inside my head, pain like a block of ice lodged in my chest. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

I didn't want to think. Because if I started to, I would have to come to some conclusions.

And there were no good conclusions. No possible choices.

I needed to do something. I got up, sat at the dining table and sorted through the pile of junk mail.

One envelope stuck out—a large, thick white one with a return address of Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

A fat envelope—a good sign. I thought my heart was frozen, but still, it leaped up in my chest and pounded furiously as I tore open the flap.

"Congratulations!" it read. "You have been offered admission to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology." The professor I'd been hoping to work with wanted to meet me during an upcoming visit. A slow, distant excitement bubbled up within me. I clutched the paper, desperately, like a drowning person might clutch a life ring. Could I finally be getting some good news?

Maybe I could put all this behind me and start the rest of my life. Maybe I could just run away from Forks, forget everyone I knew here. Forget everything that had happened.

Then I turned to the next page.

My financial aid package. I read it through once, twice, and then three times, hoping in vain to find something I had missed.

They were basing my Expected Family Contribution on my father's salary—the salary of a man I hadn't seen in ten years, someone who had repeatedly refused to pay child support or contribute to our family's financial upkeep. The college was claiming I could afford to pay nearly twenty thousand dollars a year.

I had no money. I couldn't even afford to pay _two_ thousand a year. My parents wouldn't give me a dime. I couldn't go to the local state university, much less a private school. Even if I worked full-time at minimum wage in addition to going to school, my full salary before taxes wouldn't hit twenty thousand. Even if I worked overtime at the bakery this year, and saved every penny that didn't go to taxes and rent, it wouldn't be nearly enough. They wouldn't even give me loans for it, thanks to the tyranny of the EFC. And that wasn't even considering the question of whether it was a wise decision to go into debt so early in my life. I ground my teeth. I was trapped.

I would work minimum-wage jobs for the rest of my life.

" _I could have been something!" my mother shouted. I cowered behind the dining table. She had already thrown the casserole dish at me. It missed my head and lay splattered in a broken sticky mess behind me on the floor. "If I hadn't had to take care of you! Always crying, always dirty, always whining! It's all your fault. You're the reason I had to drop out of school. You're the reason why there's no money."_

Tears ran down my cheeks. There would never be any money.

There was no way I would ever become a biochemist, no way I would ever do the work I had always longed to do.

Unbidden, my mind returned to my conversation with Edward, and the bitterness in his words that I remembered but hadn't really grasped at the time. _"The only way out of poverty in this country is education, Bella, and they took that away from me too. They always claim there's plenty of help for the poor in this country, but it's a lot rarer than people think."_

It was ironic that I had asked him to give up his illegal sources of income just before I appreciated for the first time what it truly meant.

I finally understood, in the core of my belly, why Edward might have made the choices he made.

If I wanted the one thing I had always dreamed of, my one chance to escape my terrible family life, to get away from the beaten track of my existence that stretched ahead of me like a narrow, dark tunnel — all I would have to do was smash my ethical compass to bits.

Oh, I could justify it. I knew I could do great things for the world if I just had enough money to go to college.

I put my head in my hands. I could go to Edward and explain the situation. Twenty thousand dollars was probably nothing for him, merely small change for the Captain of Volterra. I shivered. He would help me.

Of course.

It would be easy.

It would make him happy. It would make my life so much simpler. So much more successful.

And we could be together.

For a moment, that cold hard knot in my chest dissolved just a little bit, and the darkness in my mind lifted just a tiny fraction at the thought that I might see him again. That I might hold him in my arms.

My body yearned to feel his warmth pressed against me, to stand within his magic circle of protection, to hear his voice against my ear, quiver at his lips across my throat. To burn with him like a flame against the darkness.

Every single inch of my skin vibrated with longing.

But what would be the price?

I firmed my lips and sat up straight. No. I would never accept the money he had made from others' suffering and death. Better to give up everything.

I picked up the folder from the table and marched over to the plastic bin that held recycling. I took a deep breath, dropped the folder into the bin, and then went to the kitchen to chop tomatoes for dinner.

It was over.

It was all over.

The water ran in the sink and my tears ran down my cheeks.

I couldn't help imagining my next conversation with him.

" _Edward, Jacob told me the police traced Rapture to Volterra. That your gang is the only supplier." My hands were shaking as I took a wooden spoon out of the drawer._

 _Shrugging, he leaned against the counter. "Do you always believe whatever Jacob says?"_

 _My lips tightened. "You know what I'm asking. Are you or are you not selling Rapture?"_

" _I personally have never sold it, no."_

 _I banged the kitchen table hard with the spoon. "That's not what I mean and you know it! Is your gang responsible for all the Rapture addicts?"_

 _He straightened and spun to face me. "Responsible? Absolutely not! Drug use is something individuals choose themselves. It offends me that you're blaming me for the stupidity of others."_

" _But you're making huge profits on that 'stupidity.' People are dying."_

" _It's not my fault if others are idiots. It's not my job to protect people from themselves." His voice quieted. "Come now, be reasonable. What good would that do? Does it even make sense?"_

There was a soft tap at the door and the images faded.

It must be Edward.

Did I want to talk to him right now? No. I wasn't even going to open the door.

I had already made my decision. I couldn't have a murderer be part of my life.


	53. Chapter 53

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to_ _SunflowerFran_ _for her lovely work as beta. Any mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Edward_

The door opened, and Bella stood in front of him, eyes rimmed with red, a dishtowel in her hand.

He was ready for her, his outline planned in his head. After all, wasn't persuasion one of his key strengths? He smiled his most gentle smile at her. "May I come in?"

She bit her lip and nodded jerkily. He closed the door behind him and enfolded her in his arms, pressing his lips to her forehead. She was stiff, and the skin of her wrists and hands was cold.

He took the dishtowel from her and steered her gently to sit on the couch.

"What's wrong?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

She hunched her shoulders. "You're the Captain of Volterra, aren't you."

"I won't lie to you anymore, Bella." He took her hands. "But, please, let me explain. It's not like the rumors say. I—"

"You've never stopped lying to me, have you?"

"I'm not now. Please believe me." She wasn't even giving him a chance to lay out his carefully prepared facts. To tell the truth, as she wanted.

"Did you really—order Emmett to kill Alice?" Her voice fell to a whisper.

Annoyance rose in his throat. "I told you, that was a police sting. Alice's still alive; didn't you see her in school today?" Why did she keep harping on that clumsy playacting scene when there were so many other things that mattered more? Still, he kept his face smooth, his voice quiet. How many times had his life depended on maintaining his calm and emotionless façade?

"Don't lie to me again!" Her voice rose. "Why would the cops come to a gang leader to set up a sting?"

"I'm not lying," he said mildly. "Alice's an undercover cop, and she doesn't know I'm involved with Volterra. She thinks I'm a straight-A student and far too much of a nerd to be involved in anything shady." It was the absolute truth.

She rubbed an eyelid, shaking her head. "Come on."

He took out his laptop. "Here, I'll prove it to you." Surely, truth and logic would win her over. Of course, he could manipulate her emotions instead. He could bend her to his will. But he was different now. He would do things by her rules. He would show her how he had changed. He brought up the letter of immunity from the Forks police department.

Bella scrolled through the document. "You could easily have forged this."

Of course—that was the logical conclusion he would have come to as well. But telling the truth was such a straitjacket. Stating the absolute facts made it so difficult to explain. But he was trying. He opened his eyes wide and let hurt show in them. "You don't believe me?"

"Edward, you've lied to me so often and so well, I just don't know what to think. I find out you're the leader of a gang that terrifies everyone in the school, and right afterward I hear you ordering—" Her voice faded. "I just don't know," she repeated.

He took hold of both of her hands, gazed at her with eyes wide and guileless. "Bella, I swear to you, from the bottom of my heart, by my love for you, that I am telling the truth now." Why wouldn't she trust him? For perhaps the first time in his life, he was deliberately avoiding lies. It was infuriating.

She twisted away from him.

To be honest, to be fair, he shouldn't use their attraction for each other to influence her. But he couldn't help himself. He took her in his arms and kissed her, held her shaking body until her sobs stopped.

He could feel her holding back, and it both saddened and irritated him. He was giving her complete candor. Why did she stubbornly refuse to have faith in him? So what, after all, was the value of truth? It was overrated. Truth only led to trouble. Lies were much better, much smoother, more efficient.

It was too bad that love seemed to require honesty.

Love and trust—he had always assumed they were the emotions of weakness. Not as powerful as fear and intimidation.

But perhaps they were more complex than he had ever imagined. Perhaps he should have delved into them more deeply after all. Had he been wrong all these years?

If only he weren't so busy right now dealing with the police, arranging his various plans around Rapture, and avoiding death threats from Caius, Aro, and James, he could put more attention into studying the art of these strange and foreign emotions. But Bella had already distracted him so much. If he let it go further now, both of their lives would be at risk.

"Have you really done all those things?" she whispered. "What they say the Captain has done? All those horrible, horrible crimes?" Her eyes were wide, hands twisted tightly in her lap.

His smile was its most reassuring. "Of course not. It's all for show so I can keep control of the gang." He tilted his head to one side, as though inviting her in on the truth. "Do you think an overly intellectual nerd with a flair for manipulation and trickery has a chance to survive an encounter with all these criminals? It's so much more effective to convince them that I'm an utterly evil, selfish bastard. Someone with an unpredictable murderous streak and a violent past a mile long. Someone who has all the authorities in his pocket." He lifted his eyebrows. She had to understand: in his world, fear was the only currency. He would have been dead long ago if he hadn't terrified them all. Of course, he had to hurt people. But only death was irrevocable, and he had never killed an innocent. Surely she would understand that.

Bella stared at him. He waited for her to speak, but it was as though she had been struck dumb.

Could he explain the power of fear to her? "They follow me because they're afraid. They cling to my confidence and strength. They don't know what I'm really like."

The words burst out of her like blood spurting from a wound. "What is the real you, Edward? What is your real personality? Do you even know, after all the playacting, after all the roles?"

That wasn't such an easy question to answer honestly. "The truth is, I have many personalities within me, and I can choose which one to display at any time." He reached out, stroked her hair. She sat like a statue, as though she could not feel his touch. "In my deepest self, I detest taking life; it's such a waste. But to the Captain, life means nothing. He kills without thought, without compunction. And so they follow him and obey his every whim, quaking in terror."

His eyes gleamed; he had only been a child when he had first designed the Captain's persona. A powerless child, completely at the mercy of those around him. He had waited in the shadows, observed quietly, watched as others interacted. He had planned everything so carefully. Over the years, he had built the character of the Captain, refined him, improved him. Enhanced his power. Achieved a string of unbroken successes with him.

"You have no idea how compelling the threat of death can be. And so much less costly than actual murder. No bodies to dispose of, no cops to pay off—and it fits in so well with my image. The bodies must have been mysteriously disposed of by my extremely effective organization. The cops are all in my pay. No one dares cross me, and all because of these terrifying rumors about the Captain."

 _He_ had the power now. He _was_ the Captain.

No one would hurt that child any longer.

Bella shook her head. She sat rigid, her eyes wide and staring.

Wait. No.

He wasn't really that person.

Was he?

Edward could see it in her eyes. He was losing her. Telling her the truth was destroying her love for him. Desperately, he tried to talk faster, tried to get her to understand. He could not lose her. He would not lose her.

"Bella." He took both her hands in his. "My knowledge of human nature tells me I could manipulate you into staying with me." He shook his head, his eyes intense. "But as a demonstration of good faith, I am being utterly honest with you instead. I'm doing exactly as you asked, simply telling you the truth."

Her smile was bitter. How many times had he manipulated her emotions, gotten her to believe whatever he wanted, spoken with such sincerity in his voice and eyes? "I'm sorry, Edward."

"Come with me," he said. "I promise you I'll leave all this behind. I can start a new life—with you."

"I can't live with all the things you've done."

"Can't you forgive me and allow me a fresh start? I admit that my conscience has been numb for many years. But you can bring it back. And in the meantime, I'll let you be my sense of right and wrong as I promised. I will only do things you approve of." He gazed at her with utter sincerity.

"No. I can't tell what are lies or what are truths from you anymore. You've completely confused me. I don't know which is the real you; I don't even know if it exists."

He held her close, but she sat stiffly in his arms. "I'm here. I'm real. This is real. I love you. Can't you just accept that? Can't you accept me?" His voice was soft, persuasive.

But it didn't matter anymore. She had moved beyond his persuasion.

She pushed him aside and stood. "No. I'm sorry, Edward. I don't want to drag this out any longer. We've all had to make hard choices. I just can't live with the choices you've made. That's all there is to it." A tear leaked out of one of her eyes and trailed down her cheek. "I'm sorry. But I think it would be best if you left now."

Edward sat on the couch. He thought about all the methods he could use to bring her around, how he could win this game as he had always won. His mind arrowed directly to the most straightforward means of obtaining his desires.

The answer, rising from the depths of his consciousness, was clear. It was the moment to turn to the time-tested methods of control and intimidation that he had used so successfully to hold sway over so many others. Sinuously his mind whispered to him. It would be easy. She was powerless, after all. She had nothing—except friends. Friends who were only weaknesses that could be used against her. Threats of violence always worked so beautifully well.

He could see the possible paths laid out before him like spokes in a wheel. He could threaten her. He could threaten her friends. He could _make_ her stay with him. He could own her, the way he owned so many others. It was so easy to bend others to his will. He need only say the words that would bring her into line.

She would become yet another pliant toy in his hands. Another one of the creatures who served him, body and soul. She would never dare to leave.

All he had to do was speak the right words. He could stop telling her the truth, and begin lying to her again. She would be unable to tell the difference.

She would never love him again.

The woman he loved would never exist again.

Every moment, there is a choice; a choice to order one's actions, to sculpt one's own soul. One never goes so far down a dark path that there is no choice. There is always an opportunity for some small redemption, some hope in the midst of irretrievable darkness.

His lips parted to speak, and he let out a long, long breath. "One part of me is telling me now to go back to my old ways, to threaten you." His nostrils flared. "I could do that, but I won't."

He stood and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Goodbye, Bella."

At the threshold, he paused, glanced at her.

He had always been a patient man. There were still so many lines of strategy yet to play out. These new rules had their challenges, but he could win under any rules. He always did.

It was time to work on the next part of his plan.

Then he walked out the door without looking back.


	54. Chapter 54

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks to_ _SunflowerFran_ _for her work as beta. Any mistakes are mine._

 _ **Warning:**_ _Physical violence ahead at the end of the chapter. Nothing too graphic though. No sexual assault anywhere in this story._

* * *

 _Emmett_

"I've got something you need to hear, sir," Emmett said.

The man standing in the shadows of the old parking garage sneered. He didn't say anything for a moment, and in the silence, the slow drip-drip of water falling on concrete was clearly audible. Emmett shuffled his feet.

"Do you want me to play the recording?"

Caius waved his hand, irritated. "Go ahead."

Emmett took a step forward and drew a small object from his pocket. Bella's voice emerged from the device.

" _No. I'm sorry, Edward. I don't want to drag this out any longer. I just can't live with the choices you've made. I think it would be best if you left now."_ A choked sob emerged from the tiny speaker.

Caius raised a brow.

"I just thought you ought to know, sir, that you don't have leverage over him anymore."

Caius's lips twisted with annoyance. "Are you sure this is real? He's a tricky bastard."

Emmett gave him a sly grin. "Definitely. I've been following them for a while and watching her stew. Yep, she's done with him."

"Ha. Who would have thought it?" Caius scratched his temple and paused for a moment in thought. "Then we'll go ahead with Plan B. Besides, I have another use for her anyway."

"Plan B?" asked Emmett.

"You have no need to know. Go. I'm done with you." He made an irritated brushing-off motion with both hands.

Emmett pocketed his device. "What use do you have for the girl?"

"You're far too curious for your own good."

Emmett shrugged, smirking. "Isn't that what makes me useful to you?"

* * *

 _Edward_

Emmett darted out of the bushes and accosted him. "Captain! I'm glad I caught you. We need to talk."

Edward looked him up and down, bored. "What is it now? Not more of your 'bad news.' I already told you it was taken care of."

The expression on Emmett's face didn't change, but he said in a low voice, "We've got a real problem."

Edward raised one eyebrow.

"Caius and James are making their move sooner than we thought. There's something going on that I don't know about. We have to figure it out—I think it's something big. Something scary."

"Don't worry, Emmett. I've got it all under control."

Emmett shook his head. "I think there're a few things even you don't know. I hear Caius promised James the Captain's slot for real—as soon as he gets rid of you."

Edward scoffed. "If he thinks James can handle it, he's more stupid than I thought."

"They seem to think you're no longer so useful. I don't know what they've learned."

Edward raised a shoulder in dismissal. "They'll never be able to continue the synthesis without me. Not to mention the next steps in the plan."

"From what I heard, Caius thinks Marcus made a breakthrough and they're all set. He mentioned a 'Plan B.' I heard him telling James to move ahead with it."

Edward cocked his head. "Plan B?"

Emmett shrugged. "No idea."

"All right. Meet me back at the clubhouse in two hours."

Emmett's face twisted. "Wait. Did you find—"

Edward put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll take care of it."

Emmett examined his face carefully. Then he nodded slowly. "Okay."

* * *

 _Alice_

"Jasper!" Alice rushed through the precinct door.

"The warrant?" asked Jasper.

"We got it. I'm assembling a SWAT team now. From what those kids said, they've got high security at the lab and a boatload of explosive chemicals."

Jasper shook his head. "How'd two kids — what, freshmen? How'd they find out all the details on this drug operation? You sure it's for real?"

"One of them claims he hacked into Aro Volturi's computer account. Who the fuck cares? Something shady's going on at that company and if it's good enough for the judge, it's good enough for me."

Jasper scratched the back of his head. "You rushed in a little too fast last time, didn't you?"

"Fuck that, Jasper!" Alice clenched her fists. "This is different. I got evidence from Edward as well."

"Evidence from a bunch of kids. You're on shaky ground."

"Hey, in this business you gotta take a few risks. I'm grabbing a conference room for the briefing. Are you in or out?"

He shrugged and bumped her shoulder gently. "You should know by now I always have your back, Alice. Even if you're a crazy cat lady."

* * *

 _Bella_

I didn't want to go to school that morning. I knew I would see him, and I didn't want to. I didn't want to have to deal with all the explanations to my friends, all the questions.

Slowly, I put on my school clothes and packed my backpack. I made sure everything was well arranged, and I brushed my teeth carefully.

Then, my feet dragging, I set off out the door and down the street toward school. I had left later than usual so that I would arrive just as the final bell rang. The last thing I wanted this morning was to run into Leah and Jessica at their lockers.

I had actually cut it a little closer than I thought, so I had to run the last few minutes to make it to my first class on time. But I did, and I heaved my backpack to the floor beside my seat as the bell rang. Out of breath and sweating, I attempted to focus on what the teacher was saying.

Although what was the point of paying attention in school anymore? I didn't need good grades to work in the bakery. Nevertheless, I got out my book as directed. It was hard to give up the habit of being a good student.

The day dragged on forever. I kept half looking out for Edward in the halls, and not seeing him. I dreaded going to math class because he would be there and I would have to avoid making eye contact. But when I got there, he wasn't in his usual seat. The bell rang and he still hadn't arrived. Puzzled, I got out my homework. He rarely missed math class.

When the bell rang for lunch, I dumped my papers and books in my locker and shuffled off to the lunchroom. I passed by the table for two where Edward and I usually sat and walked further back into the room, to my old table, where Leah and Jessica were already sitting.

The two girls looked up in surprise.

"Eh, what's this? Are you slumming today?" asked Jessica with a grin.

"Where's Edward today?" asked Leah.

I slumped into the seat. Not making eye contact, I muttered, "I don't know. We broke up yesterday."

Instantly, I could sense the concern and sympathy from them that I had so wanted to avoid.

"Oh, Bella, I'm sorry." Leah put her arm around me.

Jessica's mouth hung open. "What happened? I thought you two were the perfect couple!"

"No," I said, "it just didn't work out for us."

"But why?" persisted Jessica.

"I guess…" I said, pausing for a long time as I looked down at my sandwich. I wondered if I could ever tell them the truth, that Edward was secretly the 'Captain' of Volterra, the most feared man in the school, a gang leader who reputedly had the blood of dozens of people on his hands, a man I had witnessed ordering a cold-blooded killing. But no. That was too dangerous a secret to burden Leah and Jessica with.

But despite it all, I realized that I was not afraid of him. I never had been, even at the end, when I had wondered what he was capable of and had suspected the worst. Even though I had heard all the rumors, now, about the Captain of Volterra and his fearsome deeds, I still could not bring myself to be afraid of him. I still had feelings for him, despite everything I knew. I still longed for his intense eyes to look at me with affection, to hear his deep voice murmuring gently that he loved me. Despite all his crimes, despite all the lies, I knew he had truly loved me, in a way that no one had ever loved me before. Or maybe would ever again. Tears swam in my eyes at the magnitude of what I had lost, what I had given up. Even though I knew it was the only thing to do.

"We just wanted different things from the relationship," I said lamely. Then I stuffed a big bite of cheese sandwich into my mouth so I didn't have to talk.

At home that afternoon, I had just started washing the chopping board and a couple of plates when I heard a key turning in the lock. Surprised, I let a dish clatter in the sink. Edward always knocked before he used his key; was he coming back?

But when the door swung open, I took a step back. It wasn't Edward.

It was James Witherdale, his eyes bright and manic, pupils constricted to pinpricks.

He grinned widely. "Hey, princess, long time no see."

"What are you doing in my house?" I demanded, hands on my hips. "Get out at once."

He leered at me. "I don't think so, sweetheart. You see, there's been a coup in Volterra. You're looking at the new Captain." He stuck his thumbs in his belt loops and smirked.

"What?" My jaw dropped. "What happened to—the former captain?" I wouldn't call him Edward in front of this slime ball.

He shrugged. "Who cares?" He loomed over me. "Anyway, you're coming with me." He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the door.

"What? Wait!" I cried, trying to dig in my heels and pull away from him.

Casually, he punched me in the face.

Pain exploded in my head. I lost my balance and fell over backward. My head struck the corner of my coffee table and everything went woozy.

Just before my consciousness faded, James picked me up and slung me over his shoulder. "Oh yeah, princess, you're mine now. You're gonna be my ticket to the big time."


	55. Chapter 55

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to SunflowerFran for her thorough and fast work as beta. Any mistakes are mine._

 _ **Warning:**_ _Physical violence ahead. Nothing too graphic. There will be violence, captivity, and character death in upcoming chapters (no death in this one). There will be_ _ **no**_ _rape or sexual assault of any characters. Edward and Bella will not die, nor will they suffer lasting physical harm. There will be a few intense chapters, and then a HEA at the end._

* * *

 _Jacob_

"What do you mean I can't come on the raid?" Jacob folded his arms.

He and Alice were huddling against a school wall in a vain attempt to escape the icy wind. The bulb over the side door was broken, but in the weak light from a streetlamp further down the street, Alice's face was grim and stern.

She glared at him. "You're a civilian and a high school student. Of course, you can't come on a police operation!"

"That hasn't stopped you before," Jacob pointed out. "You've been using us all the time on your operations."

Alice glanced away. "There's real danger here. No. Leave it to the professionals."

Jacob balled his fists as she pivoted and left without another word. It was too late for her to get all officious. She'd already crossed too many lines.

He straightened and trotted home. The wind made his teeth and ears ache, but he scarcely noticed it. Jacob slipped inside his house, heading to the back closet where he knew his dad kept a revolver. He was busy in the clinic as usual, and no one saw him sneaking into the room. He pulled the gun out of its slot, checked to make sure it was loaded, and tucked it in the back of his waistband. Then he shrugged on a jacket and ran to catch the bus to Volturi Pharmaceuticals.

* * *

 _Bella_

My head pounded like the day my mother had slammed me against the toilet tank. My vision wouldn't clear. All I could see were bright, fuzzy lights all around me. Fiery pain raged in both of my shoulders.

I gradually realized I was half lying on a dark green linoleum floor, and my arms were stretched above my head.

I couldn't pull them down.

The memory of James attacking me in my apartment flooded back. Abruptly realizing I needed to wake up, now, I tugged at my hands again. I couldn't move them and my wrists hurt. I blinked my eyes and focused.

My wrists had been secured with nylon zip ties to a metal bar attached to a long, waist-high counter.

I smelled chemicals, and when I looked around, I recognized lab benches, a centrifuge, and racks of test tubes. I was in a large room lit by banks of fluorescent lights and crowded with lab equipment. No one was around.

Where was I? More importantly, how could I get away?

It was funny. Earlier this morning I'd been feeling as though my life was over just because I'd broken up with my boyfriend. Now, my life really was at risk.

Nothing like real danger to put things in perspective.

Of course, this all probably had something to do with Edward. Dating the Captain of Volterra was dangerous.

But it had been my free choice. And now I had to deal with the consequences.

Pulling myself up to a sitting position, I realized I had some freedom of movement if I twisted my wrists sideways. Could I reach my cell phone? But when I shifted my hip pocket against the floor, I could feel it was gone. Of course, they would take it. I blinked several times, trying to get rid of the dizziness and pain in my head.

A voice sounded behind me. "Is this one of the subjects I've been promised?" Adrenaline shot through me and I twisted to face the speaker.

"Yep, she's all yours. Clean as requested." James stood in the doorway, leering at me. I narrowed my eyes and glared.

He'd caught me off-guard in my apartment. I should have kept Edward's self-defense training in mind at all times. He'd warned me that I should always be ready for an attack. But in my emotional funk, I hadn't kept my focus. I shook my head. Even if I never saw Edward again, I wouldn't forget what he had taught me.

If I ever got out of this lab alive, that was.

Subjects? I shivered.

An older man stood beside James, deep creases in his forehead and brown stains on all his fingers. He eyed me up and down with a blank, unsmiling stare that gave me a chill all the way down to my toes.

I gritted my teeth. I'd be damned if I'd give in to James and his allies.

I pushed myself to a more stable position, tugging surreptitiously at the zip ties around my wrists. Unfortunately, they were so stiff there wasn't an inch of give in the material to be had.

The man nodded irritably to James. "Go feed the subjects in the back room. You've been gone long enough." He slammed the door almost on James's back, and we were alone in the lab.

I lifted my chin. "Who are you and what do you think you're doing?" I demanded. "Let me go at once." I was not going to show fear even though my heart was pounding so hard, I thought it would burst the buttons on my blouse.

The man snorted. "Let you go? I paid too much for you. But you should be grateful—your useless life will, at last, be of service to the greater good."

He slowly approached me, holding something behind his back.

* * *

 _Edward_

Edward straightened up from where he'd been leaning over examining a stain on Bella's coffee table. Emmett had reported something suspicious had been happening around her building, so he'd gone to check on it personally. When he'd knocked on her apartment door, there had been no answer. He'd been furious to see the guard he'd set on the building had been missing. Clearly Caius—or someone else—had made his move.

Despite all his safeguards, all his efforts.

Had they killed her or just taken her? And where? He looked around the room one more time, his mind working frantically. He forced himself to breathe deeply. Logic was what he needed now, cold and clear logic, not blind emotion. His chest expanded and his clenched shoulders relaxed.

If they'd wanted to kill her, they wouldn't have bothered taking her. That meant they had some plan for her. He'd thought he'd set things up so that Caius and Aro would learn that he and Bella were no longer together. So what could have led them to arrange for her kidnapping?

His mind ticked over the various points of logic. It was all too likely a parting shot against him combined with something they needed. Why might they need Bella? And for how long would they keep her alive?

His phone buzzed. "Yes, Emmett?"

His lieutenant's voice was strained and breathless. "I missed them. Goddammit, they've got her."

"All right. We'll find them. I'll pick you up."

Emmett had gone to the homeless encampment downtown. It must have been Caius and his lackeys who were collecting homeless people. And based on Edward's research into Aro's and Marcus's files, as well as their secret experiments, Caius could only have taken them one place.

Volturi Pharmaceuticals.

If Caius and James were collecting lab subjects for Marcus, Bella would be there as well. And according to what he had discovered, their human subjects didn't last long after being injected with the drugs.

They only had hours. Maybe minutes.

* * *

 _Emmett_

Only a few weeks ago, Edward had approached him.

"I know where she is."

Emmett forced nonchalance onto his face. "What?" He had to pretend not to care, not to know what it was all about. But inside, he was panicking. This must be about Rosalie. How could Edward have learned about her? How could he have found where she was when Emmett had failed for years?

But most of all: what would he do to her now that he knew?

Because it was true that Emmett had had disloyal thoughts. And his leader was unforgiving. He had seen evidence of that many times before.

Edward smiled a thin, cool smile.

Emmett swallowed and backed away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I've learned some interesting things these past few months," said Edward casually.

"What do you mean?" asked Emmett. He rubbed his palms on his jeans, the skin on his fingers cold.

"I'm proposing a deal. One that will end with both of us achieving our desires."

Emmett's heart was beating fast, but he tried to appear calm. "Spill it then," he said flippantly.

"What would it be worth to you, for Rosalie Hale to be safe?"

"Who?" Emmett's eyes were flat and hard.

In an instant, Edward had him flat against the wall, elbow at his throat pressing against his jugular. Emmett choked and his fingers scrabbled ineffectually at Edward's iron grasp.

Edward's eyes blazed. "I don't have time to play games," he said coldly. "This will be your one and only opportunity. I'm being generous in return for your past loyalty. Exceedingly generous, since I know what you've been planning. Are you ready to listen?"

He released the pressure slightly, and Emmett's vision started to return. He coughed and rubbed his throat. "Yes, Captain," he rasped.

Edward gave him a long, cool look, holding him in place almost effortlessly. Emmett coughed again and dropped his eyes. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Very well. Here's my offer. I promise you Rosalie Hale's safety and my protection. In return, you give me absolute loyalty and obedience. I have a plan for you to follow. At the end of the year, I'll release you from Volterra with a nest egg, new identities, and the chance to start a new life."

Emmett swallowed, fingers still kneading his throat. "Why?" he squeaked. "You always told me attachments were weaknesses."

Edward released him. "Let's just say… I've found what might be the greatest strength of all."

* * *

Emmett ran out of the alley and wedged himself into the front seat of the Lotus. Edward put the car in gear and they swung away from the curb.

"I was too late," Emmett cried. "By the time I got there, everyone was gone. Rosalie was gone." He blinked rapidly and brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Did you find out who was running the operation?" Edward accelerated around a panel truck and cut back into the lane. Emmett was thrown back into the bucket seat.

"A tall man with greasy dark hair, with two helpers that fit the description of James and Lonnie."

Edward tightened his lips. "As we suspected."

"I swear, I've been doing everything you ordered. To the letter. I thought they were all fooled. I was sure they believed I was betraying you."

"Maybe they did," Edward mused. "It may just be a coincidence that they picked up Rosalie today." He glanced at Emmett. "I found some documentation at the company that shows they've been conducting human experiments for a while. Using them to test new variants of Rapture."

He nodded at his cell phone clamped in a dashboard holder. "There's a secured section of the lab I've been meaning to access. But there isn't a lot of time." A glowing dot shimmered on a map display.

Emmett's fists clenched. "We've got to get her out."

"We're getting them all out," Edward said. He shot through a yellow light and accelerated around a line of traffic. "I'm taking Volturi Pharmaceuticals down."

"How can we get inside the building? I thought they had some really high tech security."

Edward smiled tightly. "They do. But as it happens, they have a rather technologically sophisticated enemy."

* * *

The back loading dock at Volturi Pharmaceuticals was dingy and hidden behind high walls. Edward parked his car some distance away. He and Emmett wrapped their jackets around them and approached the building on foot. Edward fiddled with a small device, fingers stiff in the icy wind. "I'm disabling the surveillance cameras on this end. We'll only have a few minutes to get in before they reactivate."

Edward tried the knob on the back door. It clicked open, and they both paused, but no alarms sounded. They slipped inside.

This part of the lab wasn't even held to the slipshod standards of cleanliness of the front offices. Grime and dirt streaked the floors, and rusty irregular patches smudged the formerly white walls. The air stank with an old animal smell that reminded Edward of cages in the zoo. The reek only intensified as they moved up the corridor, guns at the ready.

"About sixty more seconds until the security system reboots," Edward murmured to Emmett. He gestured toward the end of the corridor. "There's our target." Up ahead, an unmarked door with a heavy lock stood ajar.

Emmett took point, his gun out, darting around the corner. Edward followed, scanning to the rear and behind them. At Emmett's intake of breath, he ran forward.

The big, low room stretching before them was dimly lit. Lopsided rows of cages were stacked to the ceiling. The animal stench intensified.

But what lay before their eyes surprised even them.

Each of the cages contained a human being.


	56. Chapter 56

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to SunflowerFran for her wonderful job as beta. Any mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Bella_

The man inched forward, staring at me as though I was a particularly delectable meal. I gritted my teeth and strained against my bindings.

"You'll do just fine," he said, looking me up and down. "No external signs of liver damage, skin is clear, no apparent addictions. How much do you drink?"

I glared at him and lifted my chin. "At least eight glasses of water every day."

He threw his head back and laughed. "A sense of humor, too. What a find." He picked up a notebook, jotted down a few lines, and set it down. He circled me, leering. I wondered if he would get close enough for me to kick him. Only my wrists were restrained, and even though he was much bigger than I was, maybe all that adrenaline would lend me the extra strength I needed.

But unfortunately, he stayed out of reach. "We'll see, we'll see," he said, rubbing his hands together. He vanished around a bank of equipment and came back holding a syringe.

Sweat started out on my forehead. "What's that?" I demanded.

"You'll soon find out." He set the syringe on the table, pulled out the notebook again, and made a few quick notes. "Hmmm, how much do you weigh?"

I tossed my head. "That's one of the questions you never ask."

He chuckled. "Estimated body weight, height, age," he mumbled to himself as he scribbled on the pages. "Heh heh, Aro, so much for your Operation DeLorean. You wouldn't have gotten anywhere if it weren't for me. I, Marcus, am the genius here."

Aro — that was the name of the CEO of Volturi Pharmaceuticals. And Edward had told me he worked for a scientist named Marcus. So I'd been brought to the company where Edward had his internship. And DeLorean? What was he talking about?

I tugged again at the zip ties. I was not going to be somebody's lab experiment. Didn't fear give you unusual strength? Maybe my terror would help me break the straps.

Marcus took the cap off the syringe and squeezed out a few drops of liquid. He approached me, baring yellowed teeth. "Now, darling, be good. It's time for your shot."

At his words, I tensed my muscles. He came closer. My self-defense training with Edward came back to me, crystal clear. _"Wait until they're within range, then move suddenly and precisely."_

The man swooped in to grab my arm and I reared back, lifting both legs, bracing myself against the lab bench, and kicked hard; straight at the hand that held the syringe.

I was slightly off target, but I hit his hand and the needle went flying, skittering off into a corner. His face turned red with rage. "You goddamned bitch," he snarled, nursing his hand.

His tone of voice pierced me. Hadn't I been called those very same words before? By my father. My mother. Everyone always told me to be good, do what I was told, don't fight, don't resist, be a good girl. Don't be a bitch. Girls are supposed to be good.

And by _good_ they meant passive.

Someone who sat there and took whatever punishment she was given, as though she deserved it.

But I didn't deserve it. I never had.

"You stupid child," he spat. "Did you really think anything you do matters? I've got plenty more where that came from." He spun a table on wheels toward me. It rattled over the floor, displaying a rack that contained several dozen hypodermics prepped and ready to go.

If I had to kick every single one of those needles out of his hand, I would.

He picked up another syringe and sidled toward me, his other arm lifted.

An alarm blared through the lab and he startled. The intercom squawked, "Breach in zone 3A. Breach in zone 3A."

His eyes narrowed and he hissed. "Damn. That's the—" Throwing one more glance at me, he snarled, "Don't move, bitch. I'll be back for you in less than five minutes." He dropped the needle on the table and left.

Alone in the room, I frantically tugged at my restraints. It was no good. They were tight on my wrists.

Casting a quick glance at the door, I bent and tugged myself a few feet along the metal bar I was lashed to. On a shelf at the far end of the lab bench stood a number of small, neatly labeled dark brown glass bottles with ground-glass stoppers. A few white plastic bottles dotted the row.

Maybe there was some acid on the shelf that could dissolve the plastic that was holding me. I deciphered the chemical formulas in my head.

HCl: hydrochloric acid. Ouch.

H2SO4: sulfuric acid. Double ouch.

HF: hydrofluoric acid. I shuddered. That, especially, wouldn't do any good. It could dissolve just about everything, including human flesh and bone, but not plastic. Not something I wanted to risk spilling over my wrists.

There. A polypropylene bottle at the end of the row. C **3** H6O. I read the chemical formula once, then twice, sudden hope leaping in my chest.

Acetone.

Otherwise known as nail polish remover.

One of the few fluids that could dissolve plastic. And nylon zip ties.

Straining against the ties, I lifted a leg up onto the bench, stretching as far as I could with my toes, aiming for the shelf. I reached as far as I could toward the bottle.

It was just a little too far out of reach. I dropped my leg and leaned forward. Now my face was only a couple of inches away, but those inches might as well have been a mile for all the good it could do me. My body just wouldn't reach far enough. It was a physical limit, impossible to overcome.

I sagged against the bench. It was hopeless. What was I thinking?

My mother scolded me. "Look at the mess you've gotten yourself into. It's all your fault, you know. Why bother? Just sit still and let it happen to you."

I bent my head and my hair fell over my face. Maybe I could just hide behind it, pretend none of this was happening.

Just like I used to do.

I sat, panting, immobile, while hopelessness and fear drenched me. There never had been any hope. I was going to die here, a victim of some crazy experiment. It was nothing more than I deserved.

Wasn't it?

I stared at the thick curtain of my hair that darkened my vision and hid the room from view.

No. I didn't deserve to die. I had too much to live for.

I had a future career in biochemistry.

I had someone who loved me.

My breath caught in my throat. Someone who loved me. While we were both alive, there was still hope.

I wasn't going to give up. I was never going to give up again.

The fluorescent lights glowed through the long auburn strands before my eyes, tracing golden lines of light from one end of my field of view to the other. It almost looked familiar.

The lines of my hair. The length of my hair.

My hair.

I reared back as far as I could, arching my back, pulling against the ties, and then, abruptly snapped my neck forward. My long hair swung out and knocked the bottle off the shelf. It toppled over and landed with a small thunk on the laminate tabletop.

I lunged forward and captured it with my teeth. The polypropylene yielded slightly and I tasted plastic. Twisting my head, I slowly, carefully unscrewed the top with my mouth.

The fumes hit me and I nearly gagged and dropped the bottle, but I held on until I was dizzy for lack of air and the muscles in my jaw ached. The bottle top loosened, then wobbled off.

I carefully angled my head so the bottle tipped sideways. Liquid splashed over the zip ties and across my hands, an icy cold spray over my wrists.

The acetone evaporated rapidly from my skin, chilling it further, and I tugged experimentally at the cable ties. Were they a little looser?

How many of the five minutes had gone by? It felt as if I had been here forever. How long until Marcus returned?

I yanked my wrists apart with all my strength.

Yes! There was more give in the zip ties. I tried again. One piece of the plastic had softened and stretched. All that working out with weights as part of my self-defense training was paying off.

I heard a noise from the other side of one of the lab doors. I froze for a second, glancing up. Nothing. I pulled at my wrists with renewed vigor. The plastic band dug into my skin. I pulled and pulled.

It slipped free.

I took a deep breath, slid both hands out of the zip ties, and pushed myself up to standing. I rubbed my wrists.

At the far end of the lab was another door. I had no idea where it led to; I only knew it was the one that Marcus hadn't used to enter.

Just then, the doorknob rattled from the outside.


	57. Chapter 57

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to SunflowerFran for being our beta. Any mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Emmett_

It was the smell that hit him first. A thick, fetid, overpowering reek that was worse than animal waste. It was the most repellent mixture of feces, vomit, and human sweat Emmett had ever encountered in his life.

Cages.

Rows of cages stretched out under long strips of pale fluorescents to the far end of the room.

There were dozens of cages in each row.

Then he saw what lay within.

Emmett had seen some pretty terrible things in his life. Hell, he'd been responsible for a few of them. But he'd never seen anything like this.

The wire-mesh confines weren't more than four feet tall and about as wide and deep. Each was padlocked shut. Inside each, a human being squatted or lay, sometimes covered by a bundle of rags.

Somewhere in the room, someone was whimpering and crying.

Emmett glanced at Edward. He was accustomed to seeing no emotion on his face; the man issued orders in a dead-calm voice, no matter the nature, his expression always serene and unruffled.

But now he saw Edward's face twist with disgust and pain, for just a moment before his lips firmed.

"We're going to get them all out," he said. "You find Rosalie."

There were two rings of keys hanging on a hook by the door. Edward grabbed one and tossed the other to Emmett. He walked down the row, methodically trying the keys in the padlocks until he unlocked them.

Emmett hesitated only a second, then ran down another row, glancing from side to side, searching for Rosalie.

The cages were coated with grime and reeked of human waste. The figures inside turned dull, hopeless eyes on him as he made his way past.

Then he caught a flash of a familiar profile.

Within one of the cages was a girl who would have been pretty if she weren't so thin and dirty. Her blonde hair hung in lank tresses on either side of a skeletal face. A torn, shapeless flannel shirt hid the lines of her body.

He stopped, curled his fingers around the wire mesh of her cage and brought his face up close to the bars. Their eyes met. Hers were vividly blue, insanely blue, a blue that pierced him so deeply that he felt as though his breastbone had been split and his heart exposed to the air, pumping blood that only mattered if it could give her life.

"Rosalie."

His hands trembled as he tried to fit the key in the padlock. As though from somewhere far away, he heard shouts and screams, cage doors clanging; someone wailed long and loud. Edward's voice rose above it all, organizing the escape, directing people to help one another. As always, Edward possessed the mesmerizing ability to get others to fall in line before his will, the power to quiet the hysterical and steel the terrified. The battered, previously hopeless prisoners formed themselves into an escape party. They passed the keys from hand to hand, and helped carry those too ill or poisoned to move.

Emmett fumbled with the key. At last, he fitted it in the slot and swung the door open.

She fell into his arms. Thin, so thin, but the shape of her body within his embrace was still familiar.

"Are you all right?"

Her eyes were bloodshot but she winked at him. "Let's get out of here so you can really be my hero." She grabbed the keys from his hand and unlocked the next cage in the row.

"Come on," she urged the boy inside. A dark purple bruise ran down one side of his face, and his eyes were wide and staring. "Get out and follow them." She pointed to a stream of people headed out the back, shuffling toward the loading dock, where a tall skinny kid had been commandeered by Edward to make sure that the more able-bodied of the group helped the weaker ones.

Emmett noticed that Rosalie's wrists were almost translucent, she had lost so much weight, and her hands shook. "Wait, let me do that," he said.

They had freed several of the prisoners and he was working on another cage door at the end of the row, Rosalie right beside him, when he heard a side door latch rattle behind him. He spun to face it.

James stood framed in the door, a Glock cradled in his arm.

His eyes flicked over the room, and his face twisted into a snarl.

Then he raised the gun in slow motion, aiming straight at Rosalie.

"No!" Emmett shrieked.

Rosalie began to turn, slowly, so slowly, her eyes widening.

Emmett saw the gun so clearly, as though it were outlined in brilliant light. The barrel pointed directly at Rosalie. The muscles in James's forearm were just beginning to flex as his finger curled over the trigger.

Emmett reached for his own gun, but it was too late.

There was only one thing he could do.

It would go against everything he had learned on the streets, all his careful training, all his reflexes honed in a lifetime bent on survival.

The moment James's finger contacted the trigger, Emmett bent his knees and jumped.

Directly in front of her.

An unbelievably loud gunshot split the air, and something hit him hard in the side. It spun his body around. Losing his balance and toppling over, he glanced up and met her eyes one more time.

They were blue, blue as the sky, blue and vivid.

With a quiet sigh, he smiled and closed his eyes.


	58. Chapter 58

_**A/N: Warning**_ _: violence and character death._

* * *

 _Aro_

Aro slammed down his office phone. His contact in the police department had just warned him that a warrant had been issued against his company. A SWAT team was on the way.

He ground his teeth in fury.

It was too soon for the police to see what was happening on the premises. He had laid plans for the blame for most of the crimes to fall on someone other than himself, but right now there was still too much evidence against him personally onsite.

It was time to take more extreme action. He opened the locked drawer at the bottom of his desk and pulled out the special security key. He examined it for a moment. He had planned to use this system only in the most dire emergency. Was it too soon?

Off in the distance, he heard a pop that might have been a gunshot.

Gritting his teeth, he slid the key into his pocket and left the office, locking the door carefully behind him. The central control room for the security system was just down the hall. He swiped his card through the slot and leaned close for the retina scan. He pulled the heavy reinforced door open and strode inside, slamming it shut and dropping the safety bar into place.

He sat at a bank of computers and typed furiously for a few seconds. Images popped up on the screens all around him, displaying views from external security cameras. A crowd had gathered in one of the back parking lots.

It seemed the police had already arrived. Their undercover agents looked particularly scruffy.

No time to lose. He inserted his emergency key in the special slot.

He had only recently installed this state-of-the-art security system. It was originally designed for labs located overseas in hostile territory. Some might call it overkill. Paranoid.

But now Aro congratulated himself on his foresight.

As the key twisted in the slot, monitors flicked on. A warning signal beeped.

With a rumble, blast doors lowered over all the exits of the building, including windows. His ears popped slightly as the chamber pressurized.

The entire building was now effectively sealed off. All external walls had been constructed from reinforced steel, designed to repel attacks. No one could get in or out—except through the secured exit from this control room.

Aro gave his reflection in the computer monitor a tight smile.

That would take care of the external threat. It would keep the police out—at least for the time he needed.

Now to deal with the internal threat. He flipped several more switches, transferring control of the entire system from the front security office to here. More alarms went off as bank after bank of monitoring devices were reassigned to his control.

Several screens lit up, and security cameras displayed empty corridors, fire doors hanging open, a row of cages unlocked with their doors hanging open. Bodies on the floor.

His eyes narrowed. What was going on?

Then he shrugged. It didn't matter. It was time to clean up this operation and move on. He'd gotten all he needed from it, and one of his talents was knowing when it was time to cut his losses. He had everything in place for a clean getaway.

No doubt Caius had already slipped away. He had informants everywhere, and Aro still hadn't figured out all his identities. Oh well. He'd make contact with him again at the next location. Caius always made sure his services were available to his clientele.

Marcus had been useful, but he had become more and more unstable recently. Another loose end to snip.

Along with the local kids. Caius had been playing James off against Edward, using the gang as foot soldiers. They would be left hanging so the police would have someone to scapegoat. As a bonus, it would take some of the pressure off Aro. Handy.

Now Edward Cullen, there was a truly promising young chemist. Aro sighed in regret. With a mind like that on his side, the sky would have been the limit for his drug profits. It was too bad.

All the work he had spent establishing this cover, building up a legitimate business. Gone.

It would be a terrible accident. Too bad all those people would die.

But it was necessary.

It had to be a clean sweep. No witnesses.

He'd installed the high-tech chemical fire retardant system himself, after the company who sold it to him kept insisting on some annoying safety procedures. Of course, he hadn't let them know about the blast doors.

Yes, his foresight was definitely paying off.

He flipped open the clear plastic cover over a set of red switches, pressed all three of them down.

Immediately the lights all over the lab dimmed, flashing red and white strobes illuminated the corridors, and a voice boomed out over every speaker on the intercom system.

"Warning. Emergency fire retardant process activated. All personnel must evacuate. In thirty minutes, all oxygen will be ventilated from the building. All personnel must evacuate immediately. Please proceed to the nearest exit."

Not that the warning would do any good, now that he had lowered the blast doors. All the exits were sealed.

No one could escape, and in thirty minutes, the only room in the lab that would contain sufficient breathable oxygen was this control room.

* * *

 _Bella_

As the doorknob rattled, I ducked behind one of the lab benches, my heart palpitating. Someone shouted, and footsteps pounded away from the door, gradually fading into the distance.

Silence fell, and I waited, immobile, for what seemed like a long time.

I knew I had to get out of there before Marcus came back. I steeled myself, crept to the door, opened it carefully and peered into the corridor. No one in sight. Off at the far end of the long hallway, an exit sign glowed. I took a deep breath and slipped out the door. Nobody in the corridor. I ran as fast and as quietly as I could toward the exit sign.

Before I reached it, the lights dimmed and a loud alarm blared. A white strobe began to flash directly over my head. I jerked to a stop, crouching. Had they already detected my escape and raised the alarm?

A robotic voice emanated from a loudspeaker in the wall. The words were almost unintelligible.

"Warning. Evacuate immediately. Proceed to the nearest exit."

No problem—that was exactly what I wanted to do.

I zipped down the hall and swung left at the far end into another long corridor. Up ahead was an external door, but when I opened it, a solid slab of metal blocked the exit. I pushed but there was no give.

Strange.

Time to look for another way out. I had passed a lab door on my way, so I retraced my steps. Through a glass panel, I saw a dim room full of what looked like long rows of cages.

A green exit sign blinked at the other end of the space.

I tried the door and found it unlocked. I pulled it open and was blasted by a foul stench. I gagged. This lab had apparently once housed a number of animal experiments. Ugh. The empty cages were filthy. Metal cage doors hung open up and down the rows. The room appeared to be completely deserted.

At the far end, under the exit sign, was a large door that looked like it led to a loading dock.

Okay. I'd take any way out. I trotted down one of the rows toward the exit.

There was a pile of clothing in the middle of my path, and I slowed to detour around it.

Then I gasped.

It was a human being.

I knelt beside him. He lay sprawled out on the floor, bleeding profusely from multiple wounds. For a moment I wasn't sure if he was alive. Then he wheezed and choked and I recognized him.

It was Emmett.

I fumbled for his coat, trying to apply pressure to the worst of his wounds.

"Nah," he whispered. "You don't need to do that."

"We've got to stop the bleeding," I said. "Then we've got to get you to a hospital."

"Don't bother. I just gotta know—did she get out?"

One wound was spurting, right there in his chest. It didn't look good.

He coughed a little, and blood bubbled out from his lips. "Tell me, did she get out? He promised he'd get her out."

"What?"

"He's a liar, I know, but one thing's for sure. He always keeps his promises."

"Shh, don't talk now."

"He said he'd get Rosalie out. She's easy to spot. Beautiful… the most beautiful girl ever. Hair the color of the sun and eyes brighter than the sky."

I glanced around. There was no one in the room, and at the far end I could see the large door to the loading dock was also sealed shut. Who was Rosalie?

I looked back at Emmett. He gazed at me, pleading.

Whoever she was, he loved her. I had to give him something.

I exhaled. "Yes. Yes, he got her out."

He let out a long breath, like a bubbling sigh, and his body relaxed. "That's it. It's all okay then." He groped for my hand and I clasped his. "When you love someone, when you really love them, they're all that matters in the world. He said it, and he was right. He said he just never knew before." He gasped and his voice grew weaker.

"Shhh," I said. "You don't need to talk. Conserve your strength."

"No, I have to tell you," he whispered. "I have to tell you because you're the one. He said you're the only one for him and because of it he knew he had to protect my Rosalie. Because of you she's alive. I want you to know. I want you to know that—"

He sighed, and a little puff of air came out of his mouth, and then he was quiet.

His wound had stopped bleeding. Frantically, I fumbled at his chest and put my ear to his lips.

No heartbeat. No breath.

"Warning. In twenty-five minutes, all oxygen will be ventilated from the building. All personnel must evacuate immediately."

Could I get him out the door, find someone who could call 911? Maybe if an ambulance could take him to the hospital, he could still be saved.

I ran to the loading dock door, tugged at it. No. It was sealed from the outside, as I had thought.

This room was a trap. Maybe the entire building was a trap. What was going on? There had to be a control room somewhere, some type of central system management.

I went back to Emmett. His eyes were glassy and he lay immobile. Tears stung my eyes. People had said he was Edward's best friend. He didn't deserve to die like this.

But there was nothing I could do. I squatted beside him and brushed his hair back from his forehead. I straightened his jacket and folded his hands over his chest.

I sat back. There must be some words I could say for him.

"Rosalie is going to do well," I told him. "Look down on her from heaven, and take care of her. I'll tell her you love her."

The loudspeaker interrupted me. "Warning. In twenty minutes, all oxygen will be ventilated from the building. All personnel must evacuate immediately."

I stood up. I had to get out of here. A gun lay on the floor just beyond his outstretched hand. I hesitated, then picked it up and slid it into the waistband of my jeans.

* * *

 _Alice_

Alice loped along the dimly lit hall, trailed by Jasper. She cursed her poor timing. She'd gone ahead to scout out the area and had just turned to wave the SWAT team in when all the blast doors had gone down. Now she and Jasper were trapped inside while the SWAT team was stuck outside.

Low lights and flashing strobes threw shadows along the corridors and made it difficult to see. She and Jasper went from door to door, checking to make sure there was no one who needed to be rescued. The last communication she'd received before her radio went dead was that a young girl had been kidnapped and was being held hostage inside the building.

They had to find any civilians still trapped inside the building and rescue them.

And oh yes, they had to find an exit.

"Warning. In twenty minutes, all oxygen will be ventilated from the building. All personnel must evacuate immediately."


	59. Chapter 59

_Edward_

Edward sprinted down the corridor as the strobe lights flashed, checking each of the doors as he passed.

He had to find Bella.

It was so strange.

He had never cared about much of anything, other than paying back his enemies.

But now everything was turned upside down.

Bella was all that mattered. Every fiber of his being yearned toward her the way iron filings lined up in a magnetic field. Whether or not she chose to be with him, he would give everything for her.

But that meant so much more than her physical well-being.

Once he had thought her hopelessly naïve, the way she longed to make the world a better place.

Now all he wanted was to accomplish her desires.

It was so strange, and yet so wonderful.

It was irrational, but there it was.

In the big lab, he had organized the escape of the homeless prisoners from their cages. The entire time, fear gnawed inside him, the terrifying worry that Bella was in danger. That every minute might be the one that made the difference to whether she lived or died.

In the past, he could have walked right by those people about to die, without a care, on his way to accomplish whatever goal he chose. Surely that was the rational thing to do.

But now, he could not leave those pathetic prisoners to their fate. He felt compelled to get them out.

With this, he was honoring Bella far more than by simply saving her life. He was honoring her soul. He was respecting the deepest part of her and in so doing, was reaching beyond what was purely rational to celebrate the connection he would always have with her.

There had been no time for philosophy as he organized the prisoners, identified the leaders among them and set them to various tasks: carrying people outside, managing others, performing first aid, contacting the police.

He was getting the last of the escapees out when the side door opened on the far side of the lab, and he spotted James.

James lifted his Glock. It was clear what was going to happen. Edward sprinted toward him, drawing his own gun as he ran.

But Emmett and Rosalie were within point-blank range of James's weapon.

James fired, and Emmett fell. Edward returned fire, but the distance was too great. He'd missed, and James darted out the door and disappeared.

When he reached Rosalie, she was crouched over Emmett lying on the floor bleeding out. Edward was going to chase after James, but Emmett gasped out a few words, making him promise to get Rosalie out first before doing anything else.

Given his wounds, realistically, there was no saving him. But yes, Edward could save Rosalie.

He grabbed her hand and tugged her past the empty cages, yanking her to the exit as she wailed and protested.

"Don't you see?" he asked. "Emmett wants you to get out safely. You'll do that for him, won't you?"

The blast door had started to descend. Edward shoved her, hard, barely in time. She rolled through and was out. The door slammed behind her with a decisive clang.

In the sudden silence in the big lab full of empty cages, he returned to where Emmett lay on the ground, eyes closed. With multiple bullet wounds he didn't have a chance. Edward didn't even dare move him, much less try to find an exit for him.

Then he heard the evacuation warning, and realized the situation was even worse than he had imagined. Much more than Bella's life was at risk. What could Aro be thinking? Was he truly planning to kill everyone in the building?

Edward couldn't simply find Bella and escape, not just yet. He was responsible for other lives now.

If the system worked the way he suspected, oxygen levels throughout the building would be dropping over the next few minutes. People would soon show the symptoms of hypoxia: decreased vision, confusion, poor judgment, or inappropriate euphoria. The symptoms were unique to the individual. He himself had once visited an altitude chamber and observed his own behavior, deeming it potentially useful should he ever be caught in an unpressurized airplane.

Usually, judgment was one of the first things to go.

And losing mental control or cognitive judgment was one of the few things that frightened Edward.

Hypoxia could be especially dangerous when combined with lethal weapons. James had quite an arsenal with him. And there were undoubtedly security forces armed by Aro roaming the building.

Edward would need to be very careful.

He glanced one more time at Emmett. He'd been probably the closest thing Edward had to a friend. And in the end he had demonstrated his loyalty. Was there anything he could do to save him? He shook his head. A pang came over him but he pushed it away ruthlessly. He had work to do for those still living.

He let the lab door slam behind him and raced down the hall under the flashing lights. More warnings sounded. He paused briefly to check the windows into each of the labs he passed. They were all empty. Hopefully most of the employees had heard the warnings and evacuated.

He couldn't search every room. There wasn't time. He knew where he had to go.

The central control room.

He took a right at the next corridor and dashed up the hall.

The control room was ringed by a set of large, bulletproof windows through which the occupants could scan the outside hallway. Thick glass panels reflected the flashing strobes. Set into the wall beside the heavy fire door was an entry keypad, and next to it, a full security terminal for emergency access. Edward paused, took a deep breath, and sauntered up to the nearest window.

Aro sat inside at a bank of monitors. He lifted his head as Edward approached, and smirked.

His voice emanated from the intercom. "If it isn't our dutiful intern, Edward Cullen." His mouth twisted. "But perhaps you are not quite as dutiful and loyal as you appear, Edward."

An icy hand closed over Edward's heart at the sight of Aro.

At the memory of the emails and news articles he had uncovered when he hacked into the man's account.

Aro had been dabbling in drug dealing for a long time. The scanned news clippings and handwritten notes dated from thirteen years ago.

There had been a news clipping of his family's death. Emails to a name he had recognized.

One of his family's murderers.

Aro had been involved in that failed home invasion robbery so long ago.

Now that he stood in front of the man, the cold rage in his stomach uncoiled and spread throughout his body. This was the person who had destroyed his life. Who had killed his innocent family.

For nothing.

By mistake.

Because nothing mattered to him. Because Aro thought human lives were worthless.

Revenge had been everything Edward had lived for over the past thirteen years. The only thing he had lived for. The cold hand on his heart squeezed more tightly.

He was ice and steel. There was no room for emotions.

After all, Bella was out of his life. She had rejected him.

He would deal with Aro first.

It was time to play the role, once again, of the man with ice water in his veins and a cruel streak a mile long. To hide his emotions once again. He would play the game for all he was worth. Aro had found him useful in the past. A brilliant chemist was not someone to throw away lightly. He could count on that.

Edward flashed Aro a confident, relaxed smile. "Perhaps. You might be surprised at the loyalty I have to offer."

"It has occurred to me your loyalty might be bought. And maybe… I have the coin by which I can buy it." Aro's eyes narrowed.

Edward tilted his head. "I'm listening."

"Soon everyone in this building will die, including you. The only safe place is this armored control room."

Edward shrugged. "I'm quite sure I can find a way in before the oxygen levels drop too low. I've already hacked into your system once."

Aro glared at him. "So it was you."

Edward smiled. "Indeed. So—do you have anything of true value to offer me?"

The muscles in Aro's jaw knotted, and he straightened them with a visible effort. A twisted attempt at a fatherly smile appeared on his face. "I know you want to live, Edward. You want to be rich. I have enough evidence here to frame Marcus for all criminal activity that occurred in connection with Rapture. I also have a cache of funds and some new identities." His voice lowered, became persuasive. "Why don't you join me? I'll let you into this room. We allow the cleanup process to finish here, take care of all witnesses and evidence. You survive, we escape, we travel to a new country and set up shop. You and I resume the production of Rapture. We get rich, incredibly rich, enough to last the rest of our lives."

Edward kept his face blank and calm as he listened. His mind raced. Should he pretend to accept the deal? Get into the room with Aro. Put his hands around the bastard's throat.

He put his head on one side. "A tempting offer," he said with a smile. "But—" He moved to the keypad beside the door, and began inputting a sequence. "What guarantee do I have that you'll keep your end of the deal? You do know how much evidence I've assembled on you," he remarked casually.

Aro's eyes shifted from side to side. "You mean that trumped up set of documents you gave to the police? I have proof it was all a forgery. Proof that pins this entire conspiracy on you and Marcus." He pointed at one of the terminals. "There is a secure, encrypted set of files that contains the real truth about Rapture. Including your role. It's all set to go out to the police. Besides, you'll never be able to decrypt the passwords for the security protocol to extract the oxygen. Everyone else in this building will die."

"Do you think I care if anyone besides me lives or dies?" Edward's eyes were cold. "This won't take long. Once I'm in that room, I'll be safe. Soon it will all be over."

"Think of it: you could have all the money and power you've ever wanted."

"I know," Edward said. "I know you were involved in my family's death."

Aro's head jerked back. "What? What do you mean?"

"I saw the files. What did you think? What's one more home invasion robbery here or there? It's so easy to hire a couple of small-time thugs."

Aro broke out into harsh laughter. "Ha! Is that it? Is that why you persist in this foolish vendetta against me, when I'm the only one who can give you what you want? You don't know anything. Who was really behind it all. You don't know the full story. About your mother." His voice lowered. "Come with me, my boy. Work with me, and I'll tell you everything. Don't condemn me until you know the full truth. Did you know your mother left a journal?"

"You're lying."

"No. I'll prove it."

Edward clenched his teeth and typed faster. "You're just trying to save your miserable life."

"She wrote about you and your sister. I know all sorts of things about her. She liked playing math games with you. She enjoyed music. Her favorite composer was Dvořák. Now there's no way I could know that if I hadn't read her journal."

Edward's fingers fell still and he stared at Aro. The thought that this man might know something about his mother's past, might still possess some memento of her, some precious relic, when Edward had nothing … It made him more furious than he could ever remember feeling. The desire for revenge leaped in him. It roared like a furnace, engulfed his soul like a conflagration.

Aro continued to babble. "I have it in a safe deposit box under an assumed name. So you see, if you work with me, everything will go well for you. Marcus will go to jail for the drug synthesis. I know Caius has skipped town and established a new identity, but as it happens, I know what it is. I am the only one who can give you everything you want."

Edward said nothing. Yes, Aro would indeed give him everything he wanted, once he had the man under his hands. Aro would scream with pain and beg to give him anything he desired.

He worked at the keypad. It would only take a few minutes more to get into the control room; it was a relatively easy technical puzzle.

Aro's hairline had turned damp with sweat. His eyes darted from side to side, and he panted, finally falling silent as Edward continued to ignore him. All at once, he flipped a few switches on the console, leaped out of his seat, bolted to a back door in the lab and slammed it behind him.

Edward's jaw muscles clenched. It was an elevator.

An elevator to the subbasement. Aro must have an escape route.

Damn! Edward scanned the blinking lights in the control room. Only nineteen minutes until the oxygen was evacuated. Until people died.

He had to chase after Aro. Had to stop him, find out who else was involved in his family's death. Extract the information about his mother.

He had to take his revenge.

But if he spent precious minutes pursuing the man, he wouldn't be able to turn off the fire retardant system.

Everyone else in the building would die.

His eyes flicked to the terminal on the wall beside the keypad. He could spend the next few minutes disarming the oxygen depletion system from there, without needing to get into the control room. There wasn't much time left. He could either turn off the oxygen removal and save everyone's life, or he could hack into the control room, save himself, and get his revenge on Aro.

On the elevator readout, the numbers crept down to B, B2, B3, B4, and then stopped.

Aro was in subbasement level B4. He could still catch him.

Wasn't revenge the most important thing? His only reason for living?

Bella had rejected him.

There was nothing now in his life but revenge.

He had to find out what Aro knew, force any information about his mother from him, and make the man pay.

It was untenable that Aro would escape, and not even go to jail. That he and Caius would get away scot-free for all their crimes.

Edward lifted a hand toward the keypad beside the door. He would find the entry code soon.

Bella's face flashed in front of him, the sun glinting off her hair, waves surging in the background.

He stopped.

Yes, he had lived most of his life focused on revenge. On violence and destruction. On death.

But now there was something more powerful in his life. Something that made a decade, even a lifetime, nothing more than a drop of water in the ocean. Something eternal. The link he had with Bella would continue beyond life or death. And with that connection, his past life fell away like a sheet of paper consumed in a forest fire.

There were too many people who would die if he didn't disable the mechanism.

His fingers stilled on the entry keypad.

He let out a long, long breath.

Bending to the other terminal on the wall, he rapidly typed in a series of attempts to disable the security system.

He set one script going, then another. His fingers did not cease to move. He tried one idea, then another, as the minutes ticked down on the LED readout.

Nothing.

Nothing was working.

Then he noticed his fingertips.

They were showing the very slightest tinge of blue at the edges.

It was beginning.

The first sign of oxygen deprivation.

Time was running out. He couldn't figure out how to disable the system. He had always prided himself on his intellect, but now it had failed him. And from now on, his mental capacity would continually decline.

Until the inevitable loss of consciousness, and shortly thereafter, death.


	60. Chapter 60

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to our wonderful beta_ _SunflowerFran_ _!_

* * *

 _Bella_

I ran down the corridor. The air was fresher here, thank goodness, but it still smelled a little like overripe bananas, probably some kind of solvent like isoamyl acetate. The flashing lights lent the place a surreal atmosphere, and the warning broadcasts made my stomach churn. One good thing was I hadn't run into anybody else in the halls, so hopefully everyone else had gotten out. Now it was my turn.

Turning a corner, I spotted a sign pointing to the executive level and figured that was the best place to go if I was going to have any chance of stopping this countdown. I pulled open a door and ran at top speed down the hall.

I skidded to a stop, panting, as I spied a glassed-in enclosure.

Edward stood in the corridor, working at a terminal set in the wall.

I had to pause for a moment just to watch him. He was beautiful when he worked, large eyes intent, those dark brows drawn down just a little in concentration, his features flawless and calm, his full lips smooth—

— _And how I wanted to kiss them, to drown myself in his strength and beauty, to forget all about his inner darkness…_

I shook my head. This was absolutely the wrong time to get lost in a hormonal muddle. _Um, have you forgotten we're at risk of imminent death here, hormones? Stay focused._

"Edward," I called. "What are you doing?"

He spun, eyes widening, and for a moment his hand sketched a gesture toward the gun he wore in a holster under his jacket. Then he relaxed and a smile spread over his face. His whole body softened and an expression of infinite tenderness suffused his features.

"Bella."

The sound of my name on his lips, low and vibrating, reverberated in my bones and made all my sinews pulsate. I took one step forward, then another, my eyes locked on his. I didn't realize we had reached out for each other until his fingers linked with mine and a tingling brushfire of sparks wound its way up my arms and curled into my throat and along my cheeks. My face flushed and he pulled me closer, enfolding me in his muscular arms and pressing my face against his chest. His heart was beating fast, much faster than usual.

Maybe I could just stay like this forever.

He murmured into my hair, "Bella! At least you're safe."

Well, for the next ten minutes or so.

Slowly, reluctantly, but inevitably, we disengaged. His eyes went to a small keypad beside the door. "Maybe I should—" he began, and he glanced through the glass into the control room.

Then he stopped. His eyes were steel. "A lot of people are going to die unless I figure out how to turn off this system."

"Yes, go, go," I agreed, ignoring the sudden cold I felt at no longer having my body pressed closely against his.

Wait. We had broken up.

But did it matter? We might just die in a few minutes. If we were going to inevitably collapse and die from lack of oxygen, I wanted to do it in his arms.

Crazy.

He returned to the terminal and resumed typing. I peered over his shoulder. Figures flashed across the screen.

" _Error. Invalid entry_ ," was displayed again and again.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

He rubbed a hand over his forehead, glancing up again at the LED readout on the wall. Only seven minutes to go. "I'm looking for a passcode of up to eight letters and digits. I have a script that could find it, but not in only seven minutes. So I'm entering variations on guesses based on what I know about Aro. And I know I'm not thinking straight anymore. The oxygen levels have already started to drop; have you noticed anything?"

I shook my head. I felt fine—or at least as fine as you might expect given that I was in the middle of a kidnap escape.

"People react differently to hypoxia," he commented, not looking up from his typing.

I watched the screen. He'd created a script that tried a few hundred variations based on text he entered manually. I didn't know much about computer security, but I did know that people tended to use passwords that had some personal meaning to them.

I remembered the strange comment Marcus had made about Aro earlier. "Have you tried 'DeLorean'?"

His forehead wrinkled. "Why?"

"Something Marcus said. Just try it."

"I'll run a set of combinations based on that string." He typed in a series of commands and set the script running.

" _Error. Invalid entry_ ," flashed across the screen.

I held my breath.

" _Error. Invalid entry_."

" _Error. Invalid entry_."

Then, "You are about to exceed the number of incorrect attempts. After three more failed attempts, the system will lock out all console input for five minutes."

We both turned and looked at the readout on the wall. Six minutes and twenty-one seconds to go.

* * *

 _Jacob_

Jacob loped along one of the corridors. The strobe lights flashed around him and he wondered once again if he had done the right thing, following the cops into this dangerous situation. Jasper had given Alice a hard time about all the kids involved in her operation.

"First, you bring in this underage yahoo, here," he said, waving at Jacob. "Then you rely on evidence from a couple of pre-teens who think they're Philip Marlowe." He snorted. "It's like you think you're in a young adult novel, Alice. What's next? You're going to deputize Jacob? Give him a badge and gun? Hey, how about a squad car and a pension?"

Alice tightened her lips. "Shut your mouth," she snapped. She sketched rapidly in her notebook, tore the page out, and laid it on the table between them. "Now, both of you, pay attention to the plan." She glared at Jacob. "Your job is to stay far away from Volturi Pharmaceuticals. I want you to keep watch over the high school."

Jacob had rolled his eyes, but nodded. He had no intention of playing rear guard.

Not that he planned on telling them that.

After retrieving his father's gun, he'd caught the bus to the outskirts of town. It had been surprisingly easy to get into Volturi Pharmaceuticals. He'd found a half-open window and shimmied inside to find himself in a small storage room.

It was only after he'd gained access to the building that things had started to go south. First, there were all the alarms and gunfire in the distance, and then those crazy warnings about oxygen. He'd seen the blast doors go down all over the building.

He shook his head. It didn't matter. Hadn't he told his father that he was going to protect everyone from that asshole James Witherdale? There were still people in this building who needed help. He increased his pace.

* * *

 _Alice and Jasper_

"What are you doing here?" Alice cried. The hand holding her gun dropped to her side. Jasper spun to cover her, raising his weapon.

Jacob crouched in the corridor behind them, strobes flickering over the revolver in his hand. He shrugged. "Too late now." He gestured. "The control room's this way. We've got to shut it down."

Before Alice could respond, a shot echoed through the wide corridor. Jacob's eyes widened abruptly and the breath hissed out of him. Then he jerked forward and slumped to the ground. His fingers opened and the gun clanged onto the floor.

Alice whirled to face their new threat.

James stood there in a tight Nike t-shirt, balancing a Glock on one muscular arm. He sneered at them. "Was it you who let my prisoner out?" he asked, waving the barrel at Alice and Jasper. "Drop your guns." His voice grew harsh. "Now!"

Alice glowered at him for a long beat. James's smirk didn't fade. Instead, he lifted his gun an inch to center on Jacob's heart. Alice's shoulders sagged. She bent slowly and laid her pistol down on the linoleum, motioning for Jasper to do the same. There was a long moment of silence, and in the sudden quiet, they could hear the uneven whine of the fluorescent tubes above their heads. There was a scrabbling sound behind the ceiling tiles, fading off into the distance.

Alice straightened and backed against the wall.

* * *

 _Edward_

Edward glanced up from the monitor at Bella. "This is our last chance," he said. "We only have three more tries before we're locked out of the system."

"What else have you tried?"

Edward shrugged. "Everything but that," he said.

He entered the last few keystrokes, paused.

Then he hit enter.

He was still working when a gunshot rang out, very close by. His hand fell to his own gun as he pivoted and peered around the corner. He gestured to Bella to stay behind, but she trotted around the corner and jerked to a stop.

At the end of the corridor stood Alice and Jasper—and James with a gun on them. Jacob lay slumped motionless on the floor.

James grinned. "Well, if it isn't the Captain. Or should I say, the former Captain?" He sneered. "Drop your gun, Cullen, if you don't want me to shoot your pretty little piece right here."

Edward smiled calmly and let the pistol fall out of his fingers; he held his hands out, palms open.

His face betrayed nothing of the emotions behind it. He forced himself to gaze neutrally at James when all he wanted was to plunge a knife into the kid's throat. James had kidnapped Bella. Had worked with Aro and Marcus, and risked everyone's life. Had betrayed him.

"Yeah. We talk." James's voice was hard. "Here's what I want, and what you're going to give me, Cullen. I want—"

Footsteps pounded around another corner and Marcus appeared. Breathing hard, eyes wild and staring, he stopped short at the tableau before him. James dropped back and stood with his back against a wall. His massive handgun swung to cover both Marcus and Bella.

James's eyes widened. "It looks like we're all here, don't it."

Alice said, "So, you two are working together?"

James looked blank for a moment. "Huh?" He glanced at Marcus. Then he grinned. "Yeah. Yeah, we are," he added, with an expansive gesture with his pistol.

"What?" said Marcus. "I've never seen this man before in my life." James shoved the pistol's barrel at his face. He tensed.

"Don't move, you dickhead. You stay still, or else." James bared his teeth at Marcus. "Both of you. Down on the ground. Kneel on the floor." He spun back to face the others. Alice had taken a small step forward but she froze at his gesture and stood very still.

Marcus knelt, shaking his head. "You're crazy. Whatever you say." Bella carefully lowered herself to the ground.

* * *

 _James_

James's gun swung in an arc to cover his hostages. His face split into a huge grin as he saw the tension in the faces around him: his former leader, unarmed and unmoving; the cops standing helpless, everyone's eyes fixed on him. He savored the rush of power that surged through his body, fueled by his most recent hit. He had as much slip as he wanted now. An unlimited supply.

He had gone to Caius's lair for final instructions, only to find a bombed-out ruin. Either someone had gotten to the man, or he had made his escape. In either case, it left a power vacuum that James was all too ready to fill.

He was in control now. This must be what it felt like to be Cullen, on top of the world with everyone else at your feet. It was finally all going James's way, and they would all pay. He wondered why he had ever obeyed Cullen's orders when it was so much better to give the orders himself. It was finally time to get what he wanted. To get everything he ever wanted.

He and Lonnie had come to the lab armed to the teeth. Then that dipshit Lonnie had managed to get himself killed by a security guard. But James had found the formula for Rapture and the escape plan in the computer. Now all he needed was a little nest egg and he could disappear, set up shop somewhere else and manufacture the drug himself. He'd be rich beyond his dreams, but more than that, he would give the orders. He would be the kingpin.

He waved his gun at Jasper and Alice. "You two cops. I want you to get me ten million dollars in cash, a plane, and a pilot or I'll start by offing this little girl here." He gestured again. "And from you too, Cullen. Ten million dollars as well."

Alice shook her head. Had the guy gone completely crazy? She still didn't know if they'd get out of the building alive. They only had a few minutes of breathable oxygen. Nothing James said made sense. Where did he think a poor high school student would get that kind of money? But at least Edward did not disappoint her.

Edward's face was calm, the perfect actor, continuing the sting even though it all had gone so badly wrong. "It'll take me some time to arrange that, James."

James sneered. "Then you better start working on it, _Cullen_." He spat the name without any respect, reveling in it. "You always thought you were better than us, didn't you, Cullen?" His voice dripped sarcasm. "Now you're just one of us. Less than one of us. As a matter of fact, I want you to show it." His voice rose. "I want you to kneel. Kneel to me, Cullen, or I'll kill her right here as we stand."

"You'd really give up your hostage, twenty million dollars, and a chance of escape just to engage in some petty one-upmanship with me?" Edward's voice was smooth, with just the right note of surprise. He didn't move. "I wouldn't have thought even you would get so carried away." His tone was scornful.

James's breathing became ragged and he glared at Edward. There was a faint scuffling sound off to the side. A beeping noise came from the console on the wall.

Edward said, "You've always had a bit of an inferiority complex, haven't you. Never quite good enough, never quite strong enough. You hate women because they're supposed to be weaker than you."

"That's enough from you, Cullen," shouted James. He raised the Glock and pointed it at Bella's forehead. "I'm gonna shoot her, now."


	61. Chapter 61

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to our wonderful beta_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _. Any mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Bella_

I stared at James, my chin up, saying nothing. Behind me, my hand touched the Colt tucked in my waistband. Could I take it out, cock it by feel, use it? I had used that exact gun in the shooting range with Edward. But targets were one thing, a human being another.

I heard my mother's voice once again. "A good girl never fights back." Somewhere in the hallway, a fan turned on with a whoosh.

Edward's voice was cool. "Do that, James, and you're going down for murder one. Killing in front of so many witnesses? Giving up your hostages? I thought you would know better by now."

James's face twitched and his muscles contorted. Edward's expression was utterly placid.

Behind my back, my fingers stretched, hesitated, reached out again. My mother whispered once more. "Ladies wait for men to rescue them. Just be quiet."

No, I thought. "You're a bad, bad girl," my mother murmured. She said that whenever I had an opinion of my own, whenever I tried to do something she didn't want. Whenever I did anything.

No one had rescued me today. I'd gotten away from that lab on my own.

Now, people would die unless I did something. I had to be the one doing the rescuing. My mother would have had me believe that taking action was bad. That women always had to be passive. Shooting someone was always bad, right? That's what it meant to be good or evil.

But what about self-defense? What about protecting others?

Good and evil were a lot more complicated than my mother would have had me believe.

I reached with my hand, slowly, slowly, half an inch, an inch behind my back. I made contact with the cold metal as I grasped the heavy Colt.

"You're the one who should have known better," James hissed at Edward. His face twisted. "You stopped doing your job, and for what?" He sneered. "For some _girl_. Everything's been falling apart while you mooned over her. People are dying because you've been careless." He took a step to the side and angled his body toward Edward. "It's time for you to go, and for new management to take your place."

I slipped my fingers into position around the trigger, fighting to keep my breathing soft and even. I moved very slowly, infinitesimally, sliding the revolver around my body.

Edward said softly, "You're not going to be able to manage anything on the run from the police over kidnapping and hostage charges."

James snarled, and twisted away from me, swinging his weapon to bear on Edward. "You're the one who's going to die, right here and now. I can kill you and keep my hostage for later." He pulled back the hammer, kept the barrel pointing at Edward's face. The click was loud in the stillness.

Edward simply glanced at James, expression calm as always, even in the face of death. As though his death didn't matter. He had chosen to draw James's attention away from me. He was risking his life for me.

This man, the one I'd believed was selfish and evil, was risking his life, and not just for me. For everyone in the building.

I'd been wrong about so many things.

Edward smiled. "Now," he murmured.

A gunshot pierced the silence, echoing and ringing against the cement floors and walls of the corridor. Jacob jerked where he lay, and Alice stiffened and her fingers twitched towards her empty holster. James's expression was puzzled—as if he wasn't sure whether or not he'd just shot his long-time leader—and then his pistol dropped from boneless fingers and blood spurted from his arm.

I squatted on my knees, the Colt heavy in my hands, a tiny stream of smoke trailing up from the barrel.

Edward ran to my side. He rubbed my wrists. "Are you all right?"

I nodded. I wanted to sit up straight, but everything was wobbling around me. My head was aching again. The revolver fell from my limp fingers.

Alice scooped up the Glock James had dropped. "Now it's your turn not to move," she said, cocking it at him as he sucked in uneven breaths, clutching at his arm, eyes wild.

" _Warning. In sixty seconds, all oxygen will be ventilated from the building. All personnel must evacuate immediately_."

Edward leaped up and ran for the terminal set in the wall. His fingers flew over the keys. The clicking echoed loudly in the silent hall. Everyone's eyes were riveted on his actions. I felt as though I was floating. Could Edward still think straight as the oxygen levels dropped? I'd thought my idea was so clear, but now it all seemed so vague. And how could he even put it all together when there were so few tries left?

I should get up and help him. His face was pale, and his fingers began to slow. His head drooped slightly. Was it too late?

He hit one last key and slumped against the wall.

Nothing happened.

It was over. We were all going to die, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to care. I felt so tired and sleepy. My head still ached from when James had attacked me in my apartment. I closed my eyes.

"Script complete," a robotic voice announced.

My eyelids felt like lead but I opened them. The lighted display in the lab shimmered in my vision. The red digits in the wall readout kept on clicking downwards.

10 seconds.

9.

8.

7.

Then the display froze.

"Security protocol has been terminated. Restoring normal oxygen levels."

I knew that should mean something, but everything was becoming very fuzzy. I closed my eyes again.

* * *

 _James_

Jasper jumped forward with a pair of handcuffs and, before James could move, took his good arm in an armlock and restrained him. Marcus sagged against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

One of the other cops emerged from a corridor. "Got all the others in restraints," he announced, waving back along the hall. "Have you got them all taken care of here?" He eyed James with grim approval. "You got this one. Good."

"Yes," Edward raised his head and said softly. "I can't think of anyone who won't be pleased that you've finally got the notorious Captain of Volterra in custody. From what he said today, it sounds like he's completely insane."

James's head came up at the import of Edward's words. "No—" he wheezed. "It's not me. It's—"

Alice snorted, her weapon still trained on him. "Don't bother lying, you bastard. We've got all the evidence on you, and with the additional charges today, you're up for the death penalty for sure."

James's eyes rolled in panic as he realized what was happening. With a sudden, fluid leap, he twisted away from Jasper, bounded to his feet, and ran down the corridor. Alice didn't hesitate. She lifted her pistol, took aim, and fired. James jerked once, and then fell to the ground and lay unmoving.

Blood welled out of his mouth, and he choked on it. Lying on the ground, he glanced up at Alice standing over him. Her face swam in and out of his vision. James's face split into a grin one last time. It was how he always imagined he would die, drowning in his own blood. How his mama had always said he would end up. Far preferable to rotting in prison, under the heel of weak idiots and bureaucrats jabbering about the _law_. He choked one more time, and then his eyes closed.

* * *

 _Jasper_

"Shot trying to escape, too bad." Alice shrugged. "Saves the taxpayers money on the trial." She spotted Marcus and her eyes narrowed. "What's this one still doing without cuffs?"

Jasper slapped handcuffs onto Marcus's wrists. The man lifted his bound hands, outraged. "Hey, what's this?" he demanded. "I'm one of the good guys. I was just trying to rescue the hostages."

Alice snorted. "Tell it to the judge. You have the right to remain silent."

Jasper leaned over Jacob, examining his leg. "It's all right," he assured him. "It's just a flesh wound, as they say. The bullet passed right through. You're going to be okay." He clapped him on the back and grinned. "Great job. Maybe we'll even make you a deputy police officer. You could even earn a pension one of these days, given all the work you've been doing for the force." He cast a sidelong glance at Alice. She didn't seem amused.

Edward, bending over Bella's unconscious body, interrupted. "I need to get Bella to a hospital, now."

Jacob glanced up. He said to his one-time adversary, "Bring her to the Black Clinic. It's closer."


	62. Chapter 62

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _! All mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Alice_

The precinct hummed with excitement and satisfaction. Jasper tipped his chair all the way back, feet on his desk, idly tossing a small ball up in the air and catching it. He grinned at Alice. "The report's all written up," he said. "Thought you'd like to see it before I send it in."

She flipped through the pages. "Great job, Jasper." A smile tugged at her cheeks. She'd taken some big chances, but she'd gotten away with it. They had nailed the Captain and broken Volterra. Marcus Volturi was in custody, and his synthesis operation shut down. Aro had disappeared, but there was no evidence against him anyway. Alec and Jane had been released to the care of their parents.

"I don't think anybody's going to complain about the shooting death of James Witherdale, the notorious Captain of Volterra. Trying to escape from police custody, wasn't he?" Jasper remarked.

"I had too many encounters with Witherdale. The guy was an absolute creep." Alice picked up a stack of notes. "The world's better off without him."

"Damn straight. And all the other simultaneous busts were successful. They got dozens of gang members dealing Rapture. I think we've arrested most of Volterra."

Alice snatched the ball out of the air and held it away from Jasper when he made a grab for it. "Congratulations to us, then. It's good when it goes the right way for once, isn't it?"

* * *

 _Bella_

I opened my eyes, surprised for a moment I wasn't in my apartment. The tang of antiseptic filled my nostrils and a heart monitor beeped in the distance. I lay in a hospital bed, surrounded by the cheerful and brightly-painted walls of the Forks Free Clinic. Everything came rushing back. James attacking me, being taken to that lab, being held as a hostage.

"Hey." Jacob walked in the door, a bandage around his leg. His frown was so familiar, so _normal_ that I couldn't help grinning. My life hadn't felt normal for a long time.

"How's your leg, Jacob?" My voice sounded calm and cheerful. Good. Getting back to normal was a good thing.

He sat on an orange molded plastic chair by the side of my bed and pulled at his collar, more embarrassed than I'd ever seen him. "It's nothing. Just a flesh wound. Not a big deal. But what about you?"

I forced a casual laugh. "I'm sure I can go home soon and give this bed to someone who needs it more."

"You're not going anywhere until my dad's checked out that nasty concussion."

I touched my forehead, but the pain was—mostly—gone. "I'm fine. Your dad's kind to have me here." I needed to get up as soon as I could; there were so many things I had to do. And one person, in particular, I needed to see.

Jacob rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Don't worry about it, Bella. It's the least we could do."

"I was more worried about you taking a bullet for the cause."

"Oh," said Jacob, fidgeting, "I didn't do anything." He looked away for a moment. "Edward was the one who got him to take the gun off of you." He scratched his ear and scowled down at the floor. Then the words all tumbled out in a rush. "He risked his life. James could easily have shot him. I'd never have thought he'd do that. He really loves you, Bella." He stopped, turning red. "I—I guess I was wrong about him. Alice told me he'd been helping her out with the sting, but I just thought—well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I kind of made an ass of myself. I—I wish you lots of happiness with him."

"So he really was working with the police?" My heart flip-flopped. So that whole 'ordering a cold-blooded killing' was just a show. In the rush of getting everyone out of the lab, all of us recovering from oxygen deprivation, I'd never had a chance to talk alone with Edward, find out the exact truth.

"Oh, ho, ho, the sleeping princess is awake!" Dr. Black's booming voice cut across our conversation. "How's your head feeling today, Bella?"

Behind him crowded Leah and Jessica, grinning widely.

"Hey," said Leah, "We heard you'd figured out a way to score a legitimate excuse for senioritis." She shook her head. "Gotta give you credit for imagination. I mean, getting kidnapped to avoid homework? Who thinks of that?"

Jessica dumped a stack of books on my bed. "So like the good friends we are, we decided that misery loves company."

I snorted and pushed the books away. "I'm feeling fine, Dr. Black. And I'm grateful to you for taking care of me."

"Eh," he muttered, rubbing his neck, "we're happy to do it. Actually, I'd rather have you as a patient than all those Rapture addicts." He wrinkled his brow. "I don't know what's going to happen to them now that they've shut down the supply."

I stared at him, and my heartbeat accelerated. "But isn't it good news?"

"Well, of course, there won't be any new addicts now. But these poor kids," he gestured in the direction of the larger public ward, "they have a rough time ahead of them. They're addicted to a substance that isn't being made anymore. I'm doing the best I can to make them comfortable, but they're all going to be going through some very painful withdrawals. Some of them, I'm afraid, might not pull through."

My mouth went dry. "You mean, they might die?" My voice almost cracked on the final syllable. I needed to talk to Edward, and soon.

He was going to need my help.

Dr. Black cleared his throat. "Rapture is a nasty, nasty drug. Once you get it into you, it doesn't let go of you easily." He scowled, and for a moment, the resemblance to his son was striking. "The pisser is, the goddamn city has refused to give me any funding for Rapture addicts. They say that 'the scourge of Rapture is now over.'" He lowered his brows in a hard sneer. "Bastards. We've got people here who're at risk of dying because the cops were too slow to shut down the dealers, and the goddamn city is crying poor. The mayor is basically absent, and the police chief is just his mouthpiece."

"Hey!" said Jacob, matching his father's scowl. "The cops did as good a job as they could. It wasn't their fault it was a tough case to crack. That Marcus Volturi turned out to be a pretty slick guy."

"Hah!" said Dr. Black. "My son the police officer! I'm proud of him, but of course, that's what you'd expect since he has such a fine, upstanding father." He threw Jacob one of his idiot grins. "On the other hand, he still has a lot to learn. I mean, getting shot on a routine mission?"

Jacob balled his fists, but a voice spoke from the doorway before he could say anything. "You really should stop getting into fights with that bullet wound." It was Alice, her black hair gleaming, wearing a neatly pressed police uniform. "I came to thank you for your help, Jacob." She nodded to Dr. Black. "You must be very proud of your son. He did some real outstanding police work as a volunteer. As a matter of fact, the mayor's going to give him a medal."

Jacob scowled. "Just what I need, some pompous ass shaking my hand and giving me a piece of pot metal."

"Whose ass is shaking?" Edward appeared at the threshold. The room felt suddenly lighter, as though all at once it was easier for me to breathe. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. He wore a cream silk shirt over elegant black slacks. I couldn't help noticing how his clothes flattered the lines of his body. Wow. Even in a hospital bed my hormones wouldn't shut up. Maybe I really was feeling better.

Jacob appeared to bite back a retort. "Hey, Edward."

Edward nodded to him, but his eyes sought out mine. "I'm sorry I didn't get here earlier, Bella." His voice was soft and composed, but dark circles ringed his eyes. "Work in the lab has really kept me busy." So he had been working while I lay around in a hospital bed. His jaw was covered with a faint shadow of stubble, but of course, on him, it looked sexy. His eyes appeared larger and more vulnerable than usual, and it took a moment to hit me that he wasn't wearing his glasses.

That's right. He'd told me he never really needed them. Something about dropping a mask.

"Yeah," said Leah. She glared at Edward and jammed her fists onto her hips. "Real friends who don't dump her just before she gets kidnapped."

Jessica folded her arms and stepped in front of him. "She doesn't want to see you, jerk. Go away and let her recover in peace."

"Um," I said, abruptly worried that he might believe them and go away, "I think you have it backwards."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going anywhere." He pulled out a chair and sat down next to my bed. He reached out a hand.

My fingers curled around his, and all the fine hairs on the back of my neck began to sizzle.

Like when I stepped into a warm shower on a cold day, my entire body relaxed and opened in a way that I hadn't even known was possible. It was as though I had been short of oxygen all my life and now, for the first time, I could fill my lungs completely. I was going to hold his hand and never let it go. Whatever he had done, whatever he had been in the past was over. There was so much more he could do now. So much more we could do together.

Jessica and Leah both raised their brows.

Alice broke the awkward silence. "Edward! I was just telling Jacob he was getting a medal from the mayor. You're getting one too." She smiled broadly at him. "Thanks to your hard work, we've shut down a big-time drug operation, and arrested a whole slew of gangbangers. Don't worry about that accusation against you. You've got official immunity from prosecution. The city of Forks thanks you."

Edward's expression remained neutral. "I didn't do much. You arranged everything and ran the whole operation. It was a highly efficient sting. Very intelligently planned."

Alice gestured dismissively. "No, I want to give credit where credit is due. You guys all did a wonderful job. Edward, you exceeded my expectations."

But Edward was focused on my face as I listened to Alice, his face pale and drawn. "Bella. How are you feeling today?"

I registered the double meaning of his words. He still didn't know. "Thank you for saving not just my life, but everyone's, last night."

He squeezed my hand more tightly. "You were the one that really did it, Bella. You came up with the phrase to stop the countdown, and you stopped James from killing anyone."

A pang went through me. He was thinking of me first, giving me credit for coming in at the last minute after he'd made some significant sacrifices. Even after I had dumped him and told him what a horrible person I thought he was. "I'm sorry for not believing you earlier about the sting."

"Hush," he said, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my fingers, his gaze not leaving mine. "I completely understand why you might have felt that way. It was my fault, and it's been my fault all along. I only hope I can begin to earn your trust in the future."

I shook my head, my eyes smarting. "I've always trusted everyone else. I don't know why I stopped trusting you."

"Please," he said softly, "don't be upset. I don't want you to ever be upset again, Bella."

It was as though no one else was in the room. "Edward," I whispered, "I love you. My life won't be upset if we can be together." Yes, there was still an enormous amount of work to do, taking care of those Rapture patients—if the city wouldn't do it, we had to. Together.

Together—that single word caused all my tangled emotions to lift and smooth themselves. A deep knowledge pierced me. Yes. Together we would do whatever needed to be done.

His eyes widened and brightened, and the dark circles under his eyes faded like dawn lighting the night sky. "Bella, I love you too."


	63. Chapter 63

_**A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to SunflowerFran for her impeccable work as beta. All mistakes are mine._

* * *

 _Bella_

I perched on an orange vinyl chair in the shabby waiting room of the Black Free Clinic, a clear plastic bag containing my meager belongings at my side. Dr. Black had finally discharged me, and Edward had offered to take me home. But when he pushed open the front door upon his arrival, his face was gray and shadowed, and his usual carefully chosen outfit was rumpled. He picked up my hospital bag and we walked out into pale spring sunshine. A breeze lifted my hair off my neck as he opened the door of his Lotus for me.

I slid into his tiny car, and in a strange way, it felt like coming home in a strange way. But the unique scent of leather mingled with gasoline brought back memories that I wasn't altogether sure I was comfortable with.

"Why do you look so worried?" I glanced at him sidelong. "From what I heard, you got away with everything. The newspaper said they found all the drug sources, and all the dealers are in jail." I narrowed my eyes. "Time for the complete truth," I insisted.

He sighed. "For you, always."

"So?" I prompted as he pulled away from the curb.

His fingers trembled slightly on the steering wheel. "You heard what Jacob's dad said about the Rapture addicts. They're all at risk now. I've been in the lab working on some ideas I had before, trying to come up with a way to get them off the drug, to reverse both the poisoning and the addiction." He ran a hand through his hair. "But I'm stuck. I can't figure it out."

I examined the pallor of his skin, the bags under his eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I think it was the night before we got locked in the lab."

"Seems like going to bed might get you unstuck." Okay, I really didn't intend that double entendre.

Really.

He was too ragged and exhausted to pick up on it. "Bella, you don't understand," he said in a low voice. "I'm the one who's primarily responsible for all the Rapture addicts. Just because I'm not in jail doesn't mean I don't deserve it."

All I wanted to do was take him in my arms and comfort him. On the other hand, he was right. "Well, maybe you don't deserve to sleep. But you'd be more effective if you did."

"I'll take a nap in the lab. I want to get you home first, though."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "If you don't go home and go to sleep, I'm going with you."

He leaned his head against the back of the seat. "Right now, I don't really have a home."

"Then we go to the lab."

"Don't _you_ need to rest?" Concern suffused his face, momentarily washing out all his tiredness.

I placed my hand over his on the stick shift. From our contact, warmth and strength flowed over my entire body. "Edward, I've spent the last three days doing nothing but lying in bed. Let's go."

He drove so calmly and gently on the way to the lab I had to remark on it. "Aren't you wasting all of this car's excess horsepower? Not that I'm complaining."

He smiled. "I don't need to drive like that anymore."

"Hmmm. Maybe James did something good for us after all?" I teased.

"It's more like something about you seems to have filled a part of me I didn't even know was missing."

I squeezed his hand more tightly. "We're a good team."

He signaled a left turn. "Mmm. I've never been on a team before."

My eyebrows climbed up my forehead. This was the guy who never used to go anywhere, even the school cafeteria, without his entourage. "Um … didn't you run a criminal organization?"

"That wasn't a team. It was an extension of my will."

I cocked a brow at his arrogance, and he shrugged. "I have a lot to learn. This is a whole new world, and I hope you'll teach me."

He turned his palm upward and our fingers linked. No matter what, I was looking forward to it.

* * *

The lab appeared surprisingly peaceful compared with the last time I had seen it. No flashing lights, no alarms blaring, just a few people in white lab coats scurrying around, their voices hushed. Somehow I wasn't surprised that Edward had no trouble getting me a visitor pass. The security guard seemed positively deferential.

The lab where he'd been working was cluttered with chemicals, open laptops, and scribbled lab notebooks. I wandered over to check his progress. "What are you working on?"

"Do you know how addiction works?"

Easy question. After all, I was planning to be a chemistry major. "When dopamine floods the brain and shortcuts its reward system."

He beamed. "Exactly. Rapture is even worse than most opiates because it activates both the amygdala and the hippocampus. Worse, in some cases, it causes a cascade reaction within the brain that essentially poisons you, even if you've only been exposed to a minute dose. Your synapses lose cohesion, and you can revert to childhood. Your brain ends up with fewer neurons and much sparser connections."

"Ugh." I wrinkled my nose. "Doesn't sound good at all."

He rubbed an eyebrow. "I'm trying to develop a chemical analog to methadone that focuses on breaking the glutamate bonds within neurotransmitters and returns the amygdala to normal."

"Doesn't methadone just lessen the physical symptoms of withdrawal?"

"Rapture works differently than heroin, and this analog I'm creating is much more than merely an agonist. It's more like an antidote."

My skin began to tingle. "That would be fantastic," I said. "You could actually heal all those addicts permanently."

He shook his head. "I'm not quite there. I'm close. I'm so close! I thought I had it yesterday, but then it all went wrong. I had to start over completely."

"What happened?"

"I created a molecular simulation on the computer, but when I tried it for real, it got stuck in the middle of the synthesis. The precursors I'm using have a tendency to explode."

I scanned the room. "Um, you're being careful, right?" A few char marks streaked the side and top of one of the benches.

He shot me a brief smile. "When have you known me not to be?"

I rolled my eyes. "Only when you're breathing."

He laughed, but his expression immediately became earnest. "The reaction has to occur at a low temperature to keep it from exploding. I'm using an antipyretic gel. But it's below the gel's freezing point."

"So the problem is that your substrate melts?"

"If I freeze the gel, the reaction stops. If I allow the gel to turn to a liquid, well…" He rubbed his chin, and I noticed for the first time that part of the stubble on his face looked a little singed.

He swiveled the laptop so I could see his calculations. "I need new precursors, but none of them are effective to get to the final synthesis."

I frowned. "Have you considered using a different substrate? Like some kind of cellulose?"

"What good would that do?"

"Sounds like you need a bit of a reversal in the physical properties of your base. Normal chemicals become liquid at higher temperatures and turn solid at lower temperatures, right? Ice melts at 32°F as it gets warmer, and if you take chocolate or butter out of the refrigerator, they get softer and more liquefied as they get warmer."

He shrugged. "So?"

"Some carboxymethyl cellulose compounds are like eggs that way."

He raised an eyebrow. "Eggs?"

"You know, when eggs sit in the refrigerator, or at room temperature, they're liquid. But they're unusual. Eggs are one of the few substances that turn solid at higher temperatures."

He looked thoughtful. "But that's actually a chemical change, isn't it?"

"Yes, but some of these compounds behave similarly. They melt at cooler temperatures. If you heat them up, they turn solid." I waved my arms, getting excited. "That way, if your chemical reaction becomes exothermic and gets ready to explode, this stuff would solidify and shut it down."

Edward rubbed his chin, pensive. He opened his laptop and typed furiously. I peered over his shoulder. He scanned rapidly through a series of articles in an online chemistry journal, reading at his usual blinding speed.

Then he slammed the lid shut. His eyes were bright. "That's it!" He put both hands around my waist, his fingers and thumbs girdling my midriff. A current zipped through me from one of his palms to the other, as though my own body was becoming exothermic, boiling like a reaction gone wild.

He lifted me effortlessly into the air, and spun me around in a dizzying circle, round and round, laughing. I had never seen his face so carefree before, his eyes gleaming with pure delight, all the calculation and playacting gone from his expression. His muscles flexed under my hands and we flowed together like perfect dancers, hand to shoulder, fingertip to fingertip, soul to soul.

The lab whirled around us. Sunlight winked through the half-open blinds as we spun, a glittering tracery of gold like a whirling kaleidoscope that seemed half-familiar. His beautiful features filled my vision as all the shadows faded away.

Our faces were only inches apart. I licked my lips and the grin on his face suddenly became more feral. I wound the fingers of one hand through his warm and messy hair. His long lashes dipped. I leaned into him and pressed my lips to his.

His lips were warm satin and toasted almonds; that slightly burnt aftertaste from his singed stubble only rendered him more savory. I smiled against his mouth. He was delicious. Tasting him felt like risking a conflagration. But what was life without risk?

If I was playing with fire by choosing Edward, so be it.

Let it burn.

Fire could be dangerous, but … it gave lifesaving warmth. Roasting over a cook fire made food nourishing — and delicious. Baking, heating, burning could change the very structure of a substance, transmuting it from poison into elixir. The subtle chemistry of sustenance was nothing without fire.

Every cook knew that.

I combed both hands through his hair, and enfolded his head in my arms. I wrapped my legs around his torso, my inner thighs molding to his hips, and the sun swathed us in golden light.


	64. Chapter 64 and Epilogue

_**A/N:**_ _Final chapter. Huge thanks to our wonderful beta,_ _ **SunflowerFran**_ _, who has consistently been supportive and unbelievably generous with her time._

 _Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed this story. Your comments and suggestions have meant the world to me._

* * *

 **Chapter 64**

 _Bella_

All the windows had been thrown open in the school cafeteria. The sweet smell of wisteria sprawling over the south wall mingled with an aroma of freshly cut grass from the field and wafted into the room full of chattering students.

Jessica dropped her tray on the table. "Bella, you're back! Are you doing okay?" Her eyes glittered with excitement.

Leah rolled her eyes. "Nothing makes you more popular than being a kidnap victim," she commented dryly.

I managed a sarcastic grimace. "Well, I'm fine now. No problems." I dug into my macaroni and cheese.

"So," Jessica said, leaning close. "You have to tell us. Every. Single. Detail."

I shrugged. I'd been practicing the shorthand version. I wouldn't lie, but I sure wasn't going to reveal everything. "What's there to tell? I got kidnapped by a dealer who got shot by the police. A SWAT team shut down the drug manufacturing plant and freed all the homeless people they were using for experiments. And the gang responsible got apprehended. End of story."

Jessica frowned. "It's a good thing you're going into chemistry and not journalism, Bella, because storytelling is definitely not your forte. I heard juicier reports in the local paper."

"I'm just glad they kept our names out of it." I bent my head back to my food. Deflection. That was going to be my new skill. "I don't want to spend the rest of my senior year fighting off reporters."

"You've got more important things to do," Leah said, waving a fork. "Like how did your college applications go?"

I'd hoped they wouldn't ask that. "I got accepted to MIT, but they didn't give me enough financial aid, so I guess I'm not going."

Leah dropped her fork. "You're what? Girl, you are so going. Congratulations!"

"My parents aren't going to help me, and my EFC's too high."

"Call up the MIT office of financial aid. Tell them your situation."

"I know about the internet, Leah." I ticked off the conditions on my fingers. "I don't count as an emancipated minor, there's no documented abuse in my family, I'm not in the military, and I'm not 24 nor married." I shrugged. "It's no big deal. I'll keep working at the bakery, save money, and when I turn 24, I'll apply again. It's only about five years."

"What's only about five years?" Edward squeezed into the seat and wrapped an arm around me.

"She got into MIT but won't go. She's got the most pathetic excuse ever: no money," Jessica said, rolling her eyes.

Edward smiled. "You know, there are quite a few private foundations that offer scholarships to students that meet their criteria."

"I've got no problem waiting." I'd come to peace with my decisions.

He eyed me and tipped his head to one side with an all-too-familiar smirk. "I believe we need more fairness and justice in the world. That's what these philanthropic foundations aim for."

I shoveled in more lasagna and spoke around a mouthful of pasta. "A laudable goal, but nothing to do with me."

He leaned into me and whispered. "We've got a few key tasks for our team. Bring Aro to trial and get you into MIT—all legally and ethically." His eyes glinted. "I love a challenge."

I shook my head, but I had a feeling there were going to be more than a few challenges ahead for us to face together. But interestingly enough, they no longer filled me with dread.

My dread had usually come from wondering what those voices in my head would say about my life. I hadn't heard any of them since that day we were trapped in the lab.

Maybe the oxygen deprivation had suffocated them.

My mother had given me a call and told me she was going on an extended pilgrimage to some holy site in Alabama. She told me not to expect her back for at least another year. I told her I was moving out, and she seemed supremely uninterested.

Good. Not that I wanted to inform her about my new life. Sleeping with a former gang leader after all those times she had insisted on dressing me in white because it 'symbolized purity'? Ugh. I wasn't sad to be moving on and away from her.

Edward held out a small wrapped box. "I've got a present for you."

"What's this?" I asked, turning it over in my hands.

"Don't just sit there, open it, silly," said Leah.

I unwrapped it. Inside was a pair of brand-new glasses, very similar to the pair I had lost so long ago and couldn't afford to replace. Slowly, almost reverently, I unfolded them and placed them on my nose. Instantly, the world sprung into crystalline focus.

Scalloped wisteria clusters dangled over the windows, magnolias swelled with pure white blossoms, and new green buds enveloped the birch trees at the far end of the field. In the further distance, fine lines of branches pierced the pale blue sky, all the tiny details of the vast world suddenly clear and rich and full of promise.

How could I tell Edward how vivid and beautiful and alive the world was now?

"I donated my own glasses to charity," he said softly. "Now that I'm with you, I'll never hide again." His words had the ring of a solemn promise. He took my fingers in his, and slowly, with his eyes never leaving mine, he brushed his lips over the back of my hand, launching an array of sparks up my arm that warmed me as though I stood before a blazing fire.

He gazed at me with such intensity I couldn't tear my eyes away. Without his glasses, his face was beautiful and intensely vulnerable. A thrilling rush swept me from head to toe, and I laced my fingers more deeply through his, wanting only to press myself against him, skin to skin, heart to beating heart.

This man had opened himself fully to me. Trusted me completely. Loved me.

I almost couldn't breathe, overwhelmed once more with the magnitude of his trust. I would protect him with my life.

And I knew as surely as gravity held twin stars in each other's orbit, that he felt the same.

* * *

A couple of weeks later, I visited Jacob at the clinic. I peeked into one of the rooms and saw a healthy-looking boy lying asleep in the hospital bed. He looked familiar.

"Is that Kevin?" I asked, astonished at the change in his appearance.

"Yeah," Jacob huffed. He rolled his eyes. "What a jerk."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He wasn't so bad when he was really sick," Jacob groused. "Hell, when I thought he was going to die I almost felt sorry for him. Now he's just been making a nuisance of himself, harassing all the female patients and nurses."

"He looks kind of peaceful—" I began.

"Heh," Jacob snorted. He put his hands behind his head and gazed off into the distance. "I may have put a sedative in his IV." He eyed me sidelong, but I only shrugged. My slavish, rule-following days were over.

"I heard that you're also treating Kim Lugo."

Jacob jumped up, finger to his lips. "Shhh! She's here anonymously." He lowered his voice. "The clinic could get in trouble for not reporting bullet wounds to the police, but my dad, well, you know what he's like."

I mimed locking my lips shut with a key. "No one'll hear anything from me. But I saw your other ward was practically empty. How'd you get the treatment for Rapture? I thought the mayor had shut down your funding."

Jacob grinned. "It was the damnedest thing. This private foundation actually reached out to us. There's a new development in Rapture treatment, and they got fast-track approval for clinical trials. They offered to pay for all our medication and treatment for our patients."

I raised my eyebrows. "A foundation? Do you happen to know the name?"

"My dad knows, but they wanted to remain anonymous. But who cares? Whoever they are, they're brilliant. The treatment works. Everyone's going to make a full recovery."

* * *

Emmett's funeral was held on an early morning at the Sunset View Cemetery. The line of cars and black hearses wound slowly up the hill toward the A-frame mortuary. The air smelled cool and fresh, sweet as cut flowers. It was a long walk across the wet grass to a stand of white lilies and blue ribbons, where a man in a black suit stood holding a leather-bound book, greeting people in hushed tones.

Edward and I stood at the back of the crowd of mourners, holding hands. Rosalie sobbed in the front row, and a crowd made up of mostly high school students, uneasy in rented finery, shuffled from foot to foot. A few adults were also in attendance, those who had heard the tragic love story on the news. Emmett was being hailed as a hero for helping rescue all the homeless people who'd been victimized by Marcus Volturi, now in jail pending multiple counts of murder, kidnapping, and various other crimes. Rosalie's story had gone viral on social media, and a college fund had been set up for her. Donations were still pouring in.

"He would've liked that," I said.

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Only his heroic deeds remembered? Of course."

"That Rosalie's future has been taken care of."

He squeezed my hand. "I would have taken care of it in any event."

The funeral director wrapped up the ceremony, and news cameras whirred as the mayor stood up to make a speech. Edward's lips tightened. "Will you come with me?"

"Anywhere," I said.

He pointed around the back side of the hill. "Let's go to Area D."

We walked through damp grass studded with brass plaques set flush with the earth. Clusters of lilies, peonies, roses, and other multi-colored flowers dotted the ground.

Edward's hand enfolded mine. We neared the crest of the hill, the wet grass swishing against our shoes. Reaching the top, I inhaled sharply. The dewy earth fell away from us; trees coated in the pale lime-green of spring splayed irregularly into the bright sky. Beyond, hazy in the distance, the city spread out like a vanishing checkerboard, downtown windows gleaming like diamonds in the morning light.

Edward scanned the ground nearby. "Here," he said, stopping at a row of plaques beneath a bower of wisteria. Mounds of lilies draped the ground, and I dropped to my knees to read the names.

 _Carlisle Cullen, 1964-2003_

 _Esme Cullen, 1969-2003_

 _Alicia Cullen, 1995-2003_

Edward stood, hands in his pockets, looking down the hill and out at the city.

"She would have liked this," he murmured almost to himself. I joined him and gazed out over the vista. "My mother loved views."

I reached for his hand and shaded my eyes with the other. I imagined a young, dark-haired woman in a bright red dress dancing over the long slope of the lawn, laughing, flinging her hair up to the sun. "She's happy here," I said.

Then I hesitated, inhaled, and pointed to the other side of the small stream. "My brother's over there."

He followed my gaze. "Charlie?"

The words I had never said aloud before tumbled out. "He was shot by the police during a robbery seven years ago. He was eighteen."

Edward took me in his arms. Hot tears stung my eyes, but I swiped them away.

"My dad left and my mom kept saying that Charlie had just moved out and would be back at any time."

Edward squeezed me more tightly.

"He always wanted me to be good," I said.

"You are good." Edward kissed me softly on the forehead. "No one better."

I fished a tissue out of my pocket and wiped my nose, then tipped my head back, meeting his eyes. "You know what? You are too."

He raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Good?"

"What matters is what you do from now on. The past is over."

He stared out over the city, at the street pattern extending into the haze below, and became utterly still. One finger flicked at his slacks. "Does anyone really know?"

"We're going to be together, and you're going to do work that makes the world a better place," I predicted confidently. "I know you'll be a good person."

The diamond-like glitter on the myriad windows below softened and merged into the amber glow of morning. Edward shifted to face me, and sunlight flashed across his features. He took me in his arms, and his breath stroked my cheek. His voice, deep and low, resonated in my ears like a benediction. "Then it's decided. What _you_ believe is all that matters."

The morning sun warmed my bare shoulders; the sky glowed with honeyed light. A small breeze rippled the clusters of lavender blooms dangling from the pergola. The fragrance of wisteria mingled with Edward's clean scent. I lifted my face to him, and our lips met with the sweet familiarity of coming home.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

Edward took a gap year to clean up some of the mess around Forks before going to Harvard. Bella worked at the bakery full-time, and they both volunteered in drug treatment and anti-gang programs. They moved into an apartment together.

On the one-year anniversary of their first date, Edward proposed.

They were married soon after, and when Bella resubmitted her application to MIT, she was considered an independent adult and received full financial aid.

Jacob won a pre-med scholarship, and Kim, inspired by her experience at the clinic, became a medical technician and eventually a nurse. Laurent gave up his gang life and went into private security. He continued to secretly enjoy poetry.

Alice and Jasper both received promotions and never again had to work undercover in a high school. After a few more years of bickering on the job, they got married so they could argue 24/7. They've never owned more than six cats.

As the fortune teller had predicted, Bella and Edward eventually had four children and lived a long, loving, and happy life together.

The only shadow in their bright life occurred about ten years after the events in this story. It was then that Aro Volturi unexpectedly returned, bringing with him the journal that belonged to Edward's mother.

But that's a story for another time.

 **~END~**

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Thanks so much to all of you for coming along with us on this journey._

 _Please let us know if you want additional epilogues or a sequel (and keep this story on alert if you're interested). Please vote for:_

 _(a) The wedding_

 _(b) Another lemon (or two)_

 _(c) Other POVs (which ones do you want to see?)_

 _(d) A sequel_

 _(e) Don't post any more; the story is fine the way it is._

 _Let us know!_

 _Finally, we wrote this story because we wanted to see if we could redeem a truly dark character. Did we succeed? ;) We'd love to hear from you! xoxoxo ~Alisa and Sophia_


	65. Epilogue 2

_**A/N:** Just a little lemony epilogue for fun and to celebrate Memorial Day weekend. Enjoy._

* * *

 _Edward_

They'd found an apartment together, but although it had beautiful hardwood floors and coved ceilings, its only furniture so far was her rickety card table and chairs—and the comfortable king-size bed he'd insisted on having installed in the bedroom.

"Hey. You've reformed me," he said, "but even I have my limits. I'm going to stipulate comfort in this very important part of our lives."

She shook her head and her flood of hair gleamed in the warm spring sunlight slanting in through the open double-hung windows. A robin perched on a branch of the dogwood tree just outside, and the scent of jasmine wafted in. "Happy to let you corrupt me in that area."

"Speaking of corruption, I think we need to appropriately celebrate our new living situation," he said, raising his eyebrows at her. He'd had to get a very early start and it had been a tiring day. Besides, what would make the day perfect?

She laughed and spun away. "Dibs on the bathroom!" she called and slammed the door behind her.

"Now, is that fair?" he shouted through the door.

The water began to run.

"I'm all about fairness," she called, "with one exception. Bathrooms."

He walked across the room, enjoying the feel of warm glossy hardwood under his bare feet, and settled himself on the bed, propping himself up on the mound of satin pillows. Fairness. That reminded him of something he needed to work on. He picked up his laptop, balancing the cool metal on top of his bare thighs, accessed one of his private accounts and began a transfer. He glanced at a couple of encrypted messages and frowned slightly at their contents. An associate had taken some very aggressive actions against Edward recently.

Just because Edward had now decided to work on the right side of the law didn't mean he was going to roll over when others tried to take his territory.

Within less than ten minutes he'd spotted a loophole in his associate's plan, notified his lawyer, completed two transactions and fired off a series of commands that would bring his opponent to his knees.

Figuratively speaking, of course. Everything he had done was completely within the law. He smiled.

Working within ethical constraints was turning out to be an exciting challenge. After all, the criminal life had its own limitations. Maintaining a double life had begun to be tiresome. There was so much more opportunity once you didn't have to hide all your actions. Now, all of society was his potential power base.

After all, the most powerful people in the world had gotten there legally.

He was still working when the shower stopped, and he immediately put the laptop away and waited, sprawling casually across the pillows.

She peeked out the door and flung those rich auburn curls over the creamy skin of her shoulder. What a tease she had turned out to be. He jumped up and lunged after her, laughing. Her hair shone in the sun, exactly the same color as that of his sister, but the feelings it aroused in him were decidedly non-sisterly.

Emphasis on 'aroused.'

She darted around him and leapt onto the bed, completely naked. She was spectacular, all that expanse of soft skin, delicately curved in all the right areas, from smooth shoulders all the way to the elegant arches of her feet. "Come here," she called, patting the sheets beside her.

He laughed and joined her on the mattress, nuzzling the skin of her neck and inhaling her sweet scent. But before he could pin her down, with a quick twist from one of the moves he'd taught her, she flipped him on his back and straddled his hips.

Her eyes sparkled, and he tipped his head backwards slowly, baring his throat to her. "Bella. You are so beautiful. How did I ever end up with you?"

She scoffed at him from above, placing her palms on either side of his head and gifting him with an expansive view of the curve of her breasts, swelling only a few inches from his eyes. "It can't have been earned through good behavior."

He swirled his tongue across his lips and blinked up at her. "Mmmm," he murmured. "We all know bad behavior gets you so much further. Especially in bed."

She huffed. Did she realize how perfect she was when she made even the tiniest attempt to resist him? Here she was, in an apparent position of dominance over him, when he knew exactly what it would take to make her melt. He placed his hands at the perfect curve of her waist, sliding his thumbs down her belly and tracing the flare of her hips with his palms. His long fingers dug into her bottom and she let loose a long, slow breath. Almost there.

His thumbs moved lower, sliding into the hollows beside her hipbones and curling into the sensitive areas at the very top of her inner thighs, then tipping into her lush mass of chocolate hair. Her eyes widened and she made a small noise deep in her throat.

He smiled.

She was his.

He pulled her close to him, enjoying the feel of her long, cool body against his, groaning a little as her wet core slid against his hardness.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" she said. Her eyes glittered.

"I assure you, the feeling is mutual—ohhhh…" He broke off as she lifted that perfectly shaped ass and abruptly impaled herself on him, sheathing him to the hilt and firing every single one of his most sensitive nerve endings. It was glorious, and he gave himself up to the incredible sensation of being utterly enveloped in her tight body, embraced by silken arms and legs. Her scent wafted over him, the rich odor of sex entwined with sweet jasmine.

She flung her head backward, eyes falling shut, long lashes draping over her soft cheeks, and bit her lower lip hard. The tips of her long hair caressed his thighs, strands of silk whipping across his heated skin. He thrust upward into her, hands wrapped around her perfectly shaped hips as she rode him. She made tiny moans of pleasure and he gripped her more tightly. She was his and he would never let her go.

He wanted nothing more than to see her consumed with bliss, even while he himself was lost in sensation. Embraced, surrounded, overwhelmed by her. She was perfect in every way and he had never imagined feeling so complete, so utterly happy.

So in love.

With a long, low cry he reached his climax and released in shuddering waves, over and over and over again. Her warm, moist walls clamped tight around him and relaxed, pulsating in time to her breathless gasps. He reached up to pull her close to him, to take her lush lips in a deep and thrilling kiss. All he wanted was to be close to her, to penetrate her body and mind and heart as closely as was humanly possible, to entwine himself with her in every way. They lay together, skin to skin, curled into each other in the warm and sweet afternoon, their breathing gradually slowing until they drifted into sleep.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Sophia and I are working on two new stories, one of which is a sequel to this one. We will probably post teasers as we get closer to finished. We want to have them completely done before we start posting chapters here. There are also a couple more epilogues planned._

 _What do you prefer for the epilogues:_

 _(a) wedding_

 _(b) future-take (angsty)_

 _(c) future-take (happy family)_

 _(d) other_


	66. Chapter 66 Dear Readers

Dear Readers,

Our novel _**PLAY AT SOUL'S EDGE**_ , based on _Bitter Sun Rising_ , is on sale at Amazon for 2.99: _**amazon dot com/dp/B01M3N6PW1/**_

If you enjoyed our fanfic, we would be deeply grateful if you picked up a copy, and even more so if you leave a short review on Amazon. No pressure, though. We completely understand if you can't afford it (we've both been there), and we are hugely grateful for all your attention and support. Thanks and hugs! ~Alisa

If you are interested in more news about either our fanfiction or any of our other writing, please join our Facebook group, "Alisa and Sophia's fanfics," on _**facebook dot com/groups/472680682911637**_

Or like our Facebook author page, **_facebook dot com/SophiaAmadorAuthor_**

Love and hugs,

Alisa and Sophia


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